


He who burns with light

by Jojo1112



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Adventure, Emotions, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Rare Pairings, Slow Romance, Welcome to the pain train, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-05-21 10:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14913497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojo1112/pseuds/Jojo1112
Summary: When Anduin pursues Sylvanas after the Battle for Lordaeron, unexpected events are set in motion. What will the young king do, forced to fight for himself? Will he succeed to win her attention and more?(Based solely on the cinematic trailer of 'Battle for Azeroth'.)





	1. Lordaeron and Stormwind

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N**  
>  This is a work of two - me giving the emotional and artistic backbone and _Windcage_ giving the functional and decent structure. Without her, it would have never worked. Thank you, my dear friend and awesome comrade-in-arms!
> 
> This is also inspired by the famous "He who..." meme in the fan fiction sector which a lot of famous stories from different fandoms are based on.
> 
> Thank you, _Grand_Phoenix_ , and _KaedeRavensdale_ , for indirect help. ;-)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't owe or make any money from World of Warcraft/Blizzard.
> 
>  
> 
>  _Lina_ made a picture for the story. Thank you so much!

When _he_ saw her on the battlefield, it was the first time realization dawned on him that there was no way back now.

Anduin Wrynn, King of Stormwind and High King of the Alliance, was fighting with his emotions - being forced into a war he had never wanted – because all the battles he had fought on his way here, in front of the gates of the City of Lordaeron, or Undercity, as it was called now amongst those of the Horde, had given a foretaste of what was to come in the future. And he hadn’t liked it the least. There must be more to expect to from the future than war.

There _she_ stood, on the crenellated walls, high above their heads, and wasn’t this as theatrical as Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde, certainly wanted it to be, holding her impressive bow, her dark red cape flapping in the wind, every inch the warrior she obviously had become and the red glowing eyes sending a warning to everyone out there not to touch her city - as if that was what he wished, as if he didn't wish with all his heart she could keep her city – and yet here they were, demanding she answered for her actions.

Genn Greymane's voice tore him from his musings. “My king, we have her cornered.”

Anduin nodded to his words, but sighed behind his lion mask. To him there were no creatures that weren't worth fighting for. All deserved peace on Azeroth. No exception. So why must she see things differently? If they only were to talk...

The air all but exploded over them, the sound of splintering wood as one of his catapults went up in flames and started falling on itself, making him look up just in time to see this dark figure jump off it, a piercing screech going over the battlefield before it dived down, towards his soldiers, the black cloud consuming them before it landed and she rose from within. Her rallying cry still held the piercing note of a Banshee. “For the Horde!”

And then, all hell broke loose.

A burning rose in Anduin, as if the Light wanted to tell him this was the right path, the only path, that there was nothing he could've done for it not to lead here.

“Push forward!” He heard himself command. The infantry closest to him began advancing, the grinding sounds of weapon meeting weapon drowned out every other thought as the armies clashed. Two of the enemies soldiers fell at his feet before he found himself smacked with the grip of High Overlord Varok Saurfang's Reaper and flew backwards, hitting the ground and losing his lion helmet. Right next to him, Genn continued fighting for him, protecting him, reaching out to get him to his feet, a desperate call - “Anduin.”

And then Genn too was gone, tossed to the ground. When a troll sprang towards him, sudden fury made Anduin jump back up and fight, letting all his anger and frustration to the fact that he was forced to go through this run free until he ran the troll with his sword to the ground.

At the time the troll didn't move anymore, he stopped. Here he stood, looking around, taking in his surroundings and watching his comrades, his soldiers falling one after the other, the cruelty of the battle hitting him full force. No. This was not his way. One glance at his father's sword, and he dropped it to the ground, the burning Light in him already shining through and collecting above him when he raised his hand to the sky, the Light answering him. He channeled it and conjured his massive dome of Light to heal his forces and to keep the Horde at bay. He looked up, into the Light, its brightness driving tears into his unprotected eyes, but he poured all his faith, all his beliefs, his whole heart into that ray of Light, instinctively trusting its guidance and its intimate way of capturing him completely.

After the dome ceased, Anduin took upon answering the cry of his counterpart. “Stand as one! - For the Alliance!”

And then, he allowed himself one smirk. For her. And he knew she saw it, when she smirked back. The game was on. The battle continued.

Were it minutes? Were it hours? Anduin had lost his sense of time. He was fighting, he was healing, he was commanding, he was fighting, following her wherever she went, deeper into the ruins of Lordaeron. And finally, he caught up with her, in the Throne Room – where she waited for him. Now, they stood some distance apart, but finally eye to eye. Confronted with each other. The sudden silence made him aware of his own present condition.

The blood was still rushing in his veins from all the fighting, his inner core burned, the Light in him still awake and whirling, waiting for his next call to break out and heal – like he had done over a thousand times before, he had lost count – and his heart was beating fast.

“Lady Sylvanas Windrunner.” His voice was hoarse from too many commands shouted over the battlefield. “I offer you the chance to surrender. I personally guarantee that you will not be harmed.”

Her derisive laugh was an answer itself. “How honorable, boy-king.” She mocked him.

There. _This_ grin reminded him of the battlefield. It made him... sweat. It was then that a new wave of light rising from the inside gave him the courage to step forward.

“Your answer, Warchief?” The way he pronounced her title told her he took her in no way serious, expecting her to reject? But he would take her seriously if...

The moment she raised her bow to aim, Anduin was already on the move, sprinting towards her as if he had anticipated her actions, his arms stretching to hinder her movement, the Light propelling him, causing her arrow to shoot up, their bodies colliding and due to the speed of his action they both slammed against the door, the ceiling of the Throne Room, hit by her arrow, crushing down on the place where they had stood before. The walls cracked, the door gave way and they both fell through when Anduin instinctively cast a shield with a protective ward over them.

Bright blue eyes met red glowing ones, the last pieces of the crumbling ceiling bouncing off the shield as they kept raining down on them.

“I'm undead. I don't need saving.” She mocked him again.

Anduin blushed, suddenly aware of the intimate position they were in. “I'm not.” He answered while slowly moving off of her and back on his knees. He looked around, realizing they were in a small protected garden in between the ruins of Lordaeron, what was left of the Throne Room built as a high wall next to them, separating them from the rest.

Sylvanas knew that time was running out. Yet she couldn't allow him to follow. She had to fade. And for that, she had to distract him.

How could she distract him? There was only one way she knew how to do it with humans: to get them in an emotional uproar. And the only way she had learned how to do so – from experience with Nathanos in former times - was to kiss him.

And so, Sylvanas acted. She bounced up and got closer. Anduin's eyes widened, but he did not step back. Did he expect a fight? Oh no, she grinned inwardly, she had something else for him in her mind. Something she was certain to knock the boy-king out. Set upright, only a touch away – something he wouldn't have figured her on doing - she took his face in both of her hands, something she had known herself and especially seen humans often do. Their eyes met for a moment and with all tenderness she could muster from somewhere deep down inside of her, long lost and forgotten, determined not to frighten him away – and not losing sight of her intention - she kissed him.

There was nothing that could've prepared her how it felt... to kiss him. A storm swiveled around her. Emotions she had completely blacked out came back in an instant, making her being undead feel almost painful. The feelings she had thought to be over and done with, they were all there, returning with ferocity that almost made her retreat – but she realized that Anduin had gripped her back on the arms, not wanting to let go, following, even inviting her to deepen the kiss. How... who... had taught him that?

Sylvanas felt confused, excited, worried, all at the same time. Hell, this closeness... She felt lost in his embrace. No wonder why she had stayed away from all semblance of warmth, even touch, but Anduin made her suddenly want to tear down the walls, to burn them down, to overcome them. This was not going the way she had intended to. In a tiny moment of weakness she had allowed her impulsiveness to take over and this was what she reaped.

Yet, nothing could've prepared Anduin how it felt to be kissed by her, either. His initial shock was followed by surprise before it gave way to a storm of feelings. By the Light, he had never felt anything like this. Electric shocks went through his body, her cold lips' touch sending pulses all over him, pulses against which he could do nothing. Like a reaction chain once at full speed could not be stopped anymore... and his nature to answer made him grip her arms, following her, not wanting the kiss to end. So, he opened his lips, allowed her to slip in, the intimate contact shaking him to the core but filling his whole being with Light and feelings in such an intensity he was almost afraid of -

When the bomb exploded, they both pulled apart, the earth beneath their feet shaking. Anduin, all burning cheeks and heart racing, needed a moment to collect himself before he had the courage to look back at her. Sylvanas' eyes glowed a deep red, but she knew it was more than urgent now to act. She faded in an instant, slipping through Anduin's fingers as he stared at her, still stunned by the kiss.

Anduin had already cast another shield when he heard the call of a Gryphon. Genn must've sent it to him and he couldn't be more grateful for it.

While flying over the smoking ruins of Lordaeron, he allowed himself to think of her. Every fiber of his body screamed he should've held her back, that he should not have let her leave him. But there was little he could've done. However, he longed for another kiss of that kind, no, not only a kiss – he could not stop his mind from wandering, he wanted so much more, all that he was allowed to do, to pleasure her, to make her feel, to make her groan – all of those things he had watched from time to time his servants do, and that he would have loved to share with her. It felt just like waking up. She ought to be a skilled lover, he was sure, and he would have loved to ask her to teach him. He closed his eyes when longing took possession of him. It accompanied him all the way, through the rest of the day, returning to Stormwind, through the whole night when he couldn't sleep, still burning for her, laying hands onto himself wishing she would do it instead and after having an intense orgasm alone, there was a moment when desperation sneaked in. It would never let him go. He was suddenly sobbing – dead tired, exhausted, wrung out - knowing that he would never be allowed to follow his increasing desire, knowing the Warchief of the Horde would not allow such a moment to repeat itself, it was as sure as day followed night. And it also was that, as inexperienced as he was, he stood no chance against the lover the gossip claimed she had, Nathanos Blightcaller, official Champion of the Warchief of the Horde.

He was so desperate, he didn’t know what to do. He was the King of Stormwind. There were duties to be fulfilled. How could such a kiss have such an impact on him? Confuse him completely? He, who had been in control of all of his emotions before?

Gone was the fear of her. Gone was the inferiority he had earlier felt towards her. But also gone was his unattainability. He had no explanation for it but whenever he revived that kiss, he could feel her lips on his. The hands holding his face. The moment the kiss deepened. And with that the pulses returned, the Light in him burning with the memories of their bodies touching and the lingering questions assailing his mind: what would happen if they met again? Would they kiss again if he were to act? Perhaps she would allow him more? Anduin did not kid himself that he was way beneath her concerning sexual experience. Would she teach him? He was painfully aware of how he was fooling himself. She would never do such a thing. The vain and proud Warchief of the Horde would never tolerate... him in her bed. He should face the bitter truth. They were like two boots thrown into a pair in which neither of them fit. But he couldn't shake away the nagging question - what if...

He was running on fumes, he knew it, but he couldn't do otherwise. The longing for her had him every night. Kept him up. He was in despair that nothing of it would ever be real. Yet, there was little for him to do against it. Any of it. The burning, the aching, the yearning – those were nothing new to him anymore. They cost him his sleep. He paid for trying to maintain the facade of normalcy when his blue eyes grew darker. When his patience gave way to a restlessness even Genn called upon him, shaking his head. Anduin felt helpless. It had him bad, he knew it. But the feelings in the night – they were what made his life worth living in the morning – and what turned it into hell, having to survive each day. Often, his look tended towards his father's sword. Pondering on falling on its blade. Or even having the courage to fall on his knees in front of her, begging for salvation: make me an undead, so I can at least spend my life close to you. Those thoughts, they were abhorrent, Anduin knew it but he couldn't change his passion, his lust, his very being that was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The heat he had felt in only one kiss. When he couldn't sleep he wandered around, his attention always turned towards the west. Was she there across the blue ocean? Or somewhere else further away from his sight? Did she ever think of him? If he could shut down the burning in himself. If he could only put her out of his dreams and thoughts and his life, it would be a redemption. But he couldn't. He was a shadow of himself, he knew it. And something had to change.

_He_ had to meet _her_. He had to tell her how he felt. To ask if she could... save him or if she was able to put his head back where he belonged. Even if she were to deny him, it wouldn't matter. Maybe then he would have his strength back and stop dreaming of a path forbidden to him. If he had clarity, then his life could go on – one way or another. If not, he was on the path to drive himself crazy. He was already on the edge, close to the point of no return. So he decided to go, hoping that Stormwind would remain peaceful in his absence. In case he returned, he would willingly repair all the damage he had caused. Anduin knew it was risky, him going out alone. Somehow he had to travel to Orgrimmar. Not as Anduin Wrynn, King of Stormwind, Leader of the Alliance, but maybe... as Llane. If he were Llane nobody would recognize him. The blonde hair falling to his shoulders, the good clothes changed to simple ones. The armor left behind in his quarters, of no use anymore. A hood to hide his face. No weapon for him to carry. He left a note for Genn Greymane and Jaina Proudmoore, the closest and most important persons in his life – until Lady Sylvanas Windrunner had kissed him - hoping they were able to forgive him.

When they found it, he was long gone and on his way to her.


	2. Elwynn Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N**
> 
> Thank you, dear readers, for your patience. The next chapter won't take that long, I promise! Welcome back to the pain train!
> 
> I am very grateful for your kindness and help, _Crazeegab_ , _Taedae_ and _Windcage_.

 

It was after midnight when Anduin, extremely careful, stole out of Stormwind City. He tiptoed towards the gates, waiting for the exact moment the soldiers on guard duty had their change of shift. In worn, dark clothes, his face covered by a hood, he tried to stick to the shadows as much as possible. Since he knew the city by heart, it was easy to sneak past the guards. Additionally, it was dark, and the usual fog that ascended from the sea to the city had thickened, helping him to stay unseen. It wasn't until he had passed the bridge in the Valley of Heroes and Stormwind's Gate that he could breathe more freely. The dark forest waited for him, the path illuminated by lanterns.

The way lay clear in front of him, however, a tiny doubt remained if his decision was really the right one. If he was correct in doing so. The memory of his father, which he had somehow tried to avoid until now, was on his mind. What would his father have said to him? Perhaps he would've understood what it was about? How would he have reacted, being informed of Anduin's stealing away in the night?  — No. He would've told his father, of that he was sure. Yet, he hadn't known how to tell Genn and Jaina besides leaving behind a letter for them. None of the two would've understood. They were unified in their deep hatred of the Horde. And of  _her_ . But there was no way back now. 

This burning in him... it threatened to engulf him  _completely_ . He wasn't afraid of death, but he couldn't go without seeing her again and trying to figure out what she had felt while kissing him. If it was the same feeling on her side. Perhaps it was all just a beautiful lie, but one he liked the most. He held it close to his heart. There was nothing left than to find out for himself if there was a chance to gain her attention. Perhaps his inner demons would let him find peace then. Perhaps.

Being now into Elwynn Forest, a peaceful woodland, with its wonderful magnificent trees and lush glades, gave him back a little peace of mind. With the moon as his constant companion, he tried to settle in, to fall into a trot, always staying close to the wayside to be able to hide in case it was needed.

He slowly passed Goldshire late the next evening, the largest settlement in Elwynn besides Stormwind itself. There was the famous tavern he knew — the Lion's Pride Inn —a lot of noise and laughter coming from inside, but he went by without further notice. When he saw some guards patrolling, he hid behind a building's wall, waiting for them to pass by. They were drunk, but Anduin didn't mind. On the contrary, he was grateful for being able to continue to walk through the town, leaving it and following the crossroads to Westbrook Garrison.

At the break of dawn, he looked for a hidden place to rest for a while in peace, his body demanding its tribute. Later, he took up his way again, crossing the small river that came down from the mountains northwest of Stormwind City. Anduin had made a habit of walking at night and staying away from the busy streets most of the day. So far his rations had been enough and luck had been on his side.

With the moonlight guiding him again, he finally neared Forest's Edge, the western end of Elwynn Forest. There was also the Nazferiti river to cross that sharply turned and headed south, marking the borderline of Westfall with the Elwynn Forest, and further south, Duskwood. It was his first obstacle because the bridge to Westfall, which was now in sight, was heavily guarded by Stormwind guards who he himself had ordered to stay there and keep shifts. He immediately departed from the street. One look had told him that the number of soldiers had definitely increased. He had to look for a way to swim through the Nazferiti river to enter Westfall undetected. The young king had assumed his spymaster wouldn't have shied away from —spurned on by Genn! — starting a secret search party for him, but he definitely wasn't inclined to be found. Not before he had seen Lady Windrunner. It drove him forwards like nothing else. The earlier, the better.

He had thought about how to get to Orgrimmar. A lot. He had run through all possible scenarios in his mind. In the end, he decided to take a more official route, to have the chance to blend in with the normal folks. Ironforge, the dwarves' home, had been a good possibility, too, but it was too close to Stormwind, and again, his orders had been that the tram to Ironforge was under heavy watch since the Burning of Teldrassil to reduce the danger and to keep an eye on the comings and goings of his citizens and of strangers.

It made his decision easy: take the route into the south to Stranglethorn Vale and Booty Bay, and from there the boat over to Ratchet. With all the Goblin's traveling, he would not attract attention. Until then, he could walk and use the time to grow a beard and his blonde hair.

He felt for the Light inside of him that quietly stirred. It was there. And it would guide him. To her.

Anduin found his way slowly through the trees. He had given himself twenty-four days, based on his research, in which he was allowed to be absent from his kingdom without complications in reign or succession or having to point out a regent to overtake his duties while he was absent. It was a foreign concept to him, leaving the welfare of his people and of his kingdom in other hands  — he had been taught his whole life to care for it!  — but he was getting used to it the more he left Stormwind in the distance.

Without managing the current situation, he was far from being a potent and wanted leader for his people anyway. He was only a shadow of himself. It was not the way one could rule a kingdom, where responsibility and reason stood above all other things. He was not acting in a reasonable and responsible way most recently, Light, he was not even able to take care of himself nowadays. He couldn't get her out of his mind. It was just one kiss. He only needed to close his eyes and the wonderful kiss was present, he could go through it again and again. The first caress of her lips still lingered, her cold touch still sent shivers through him. The moment she deepened the kiss. The strong feelings, they let him shine, they gave him hope, and they pushed him forward. Whatever would await him, he would take it. He would succeed in going on, in continuing his life  — and he would not fail his father, Genn or Jaina anymore. But he needed to do this, to meet her, for his own sake, to know with absolute certainty that he had for once in his life taken the opportunity to follow his heart. He would master it all.  _After_ doing this. 

He walked into the beginning day, letting the rays of sunlight that glistened through the trees warm his cold bones, trying to find a place where he could rest. He prudently tried to set one foot after the other, finally reaching the wide river. He looked from time to time into the blue sky and the skittering clouds, aware that he was now about to leave the most protected part of his kingdom. It wasn't that easy, he was concerned about what he'd done – what kind of king left his kingdom for matters of the heart?  — and without his permission, his thoughts wandered back to his father. The pain of loss wrecked through him as he felt for the Light deep down, his only companion, his only direction, his only guidance that he was doing the right thing. Anduin knew desperation well, yet it had never had him in its grip like this, since he met  _her_ .

Anduin sighed. It wasn't that he didn't know he was most probably not welcomed by her. That this journey could lead to his death. But what was a life worth living for if not... for those feelings? The burning? The great yearning? The knowledge of such emotions existing, having never experienced them before? Was it what all people called 'love'? Or was it only desire? The urge that drove him forward was immeasurable, as if the Light spoke to him. And wasn't it the most curious thing, this, because the Light was the enemy of the Forsaken. Yet, as if it knew how he felt — as if it had felt with him while she kissed him? —the Light was a part of him that forced him to go to her, too. To not give up. To fight this through, even if it may be his last fight.

His body, still being tired to no end from all those sleepless nights before, ordered him finally to pause while he filled a leather canteen with fresh water from a small well that flowed into the Nazferiti river. He came to sit down at the river's bank while drinking the water, feeling for the stubbles that slowly grew, not having shaved in the mornings as he used to do every day. The sunlight that fell on the river was glistening and made him aware of the beauty surrounding him. Perhaps he should also take this journey as a chance for exploration through his country. Anduin smiled and observed some kids playing, not far from him.

*

It would've taken much longer, the discovery of Anduin's disappearance, if Genn hadn't wanted to come by for a visit after breakfast. As he had been told that the young king hadn't yet risen and taken breakfast — probably sleeping a bit longer since the servants had watched the light in his rooms turned off late, and wasn't he busy enough these days, the poor boy —Genn went for a walk to pick up Jaina and asked her to come along.

When they both reappeared at Stormwind Keep, but Anduin still seemed not to have woken up, the Worgen took things in his own hands and entered the young king's private quarters. In the meantime, Jaina took place at the table where breakfast was served and just had a cup of freshly brewed herbal tea in her hands when Genn came stomping back, pale, with a paper in his hand.

He extended the paper to Jaina, who, unsuspecting, unfolded it and began to read. After the first words, the cup of tea fell to the floor and her hand placed over her open mouth in utter shock. One look at the distressed Worgen —

“I'll go fetch Master Shaw, see if he knows something about this. By all Gilnean ghosts, what was he thinking?” Genn grumbled.

He didn't wait for her answer.

The attending servant, having seen what happened, ran over to ask Jaina if everything was alright, who only responded, with a trembling hand, that it seemed that the young king was gone. Her next question was if any of the servants had seen something. But all she got, when calling upon each of the servants from the morning shift, were regretful shakes of the head.

When he returned some moments later, Genn was more than furious, to say the least. He paced back and forth in the room, leaving Jaina with no idea how to calm the Worgen down other than staying at his side, holding a new cup of tea tightly and keeping silent while they both waited for Spymaster Mathias Shaw to return.

Shaw kept them waiting, leading both Genn and Jaina to start going through Anduin's private quarters by themselves. They found everything he had left behind  — which was literally  _everything_ , Jaina thought desperately, his golden-plated armor, his representative clothes, and even Shalamayne, his father's sword. It made Jaina's heart heavy. She didn't say a word to Genn to not heighten his already going through the rooftop worries about the young man, but it was the best tip they got, in her humble opinion. 

If Anduin had left the sword behind — this one piece of his Father's legacy Jaina knew he treasured above all things — it meant his decision was not something to be trifled with. This was something like a life-changer Anduin had planned. The short, ominous note he had left for them spoke of it, too.

_Dear Genn, dear Jaina_ — _by the time you will read this, I will be long gone. Don't fear for me. Don't worry on my side. I have to do this, otherwise, you would've found me fallen on Shalamayne_ — _which would've not made it any better, rest assured. I can't heal this restlessness in me. I need to go to its origin and find out what it is all about. I've given myself twenty-four days to do so. If I haven't returned by then, please follow the instructions that are given and laid by Lady Kristin Cazarez in the Stormwind Counting House, to have proceeded after my death. The key word is "Varian". Please forgive me. I carry you both with me. Anduin_

Light, what had befallen Anduin to act like this? To leave them behind? Jaina was shocked. All she knew he loved... or had come to love, was here. Since Genn even didn't seem to have the slightest clue, perhaps the Spymaster would be able to put a light on the whole mystery. By the Light, what had happened, Jaina asked herself not for the last time, for Anduin to consider falling on his father's sword? Anduin, the most restrained, gentle and enduring person, willing to do all for that goal of achieving peace?

Finally, Master Mathias Shaw arrived, out of breath. Jaina, who knew him as a very quiet person, someone who understood perfectly to stay in the shadows, was almost terrified to see that he was quite the opposite. Which confirmed her dark hunch, that he, too, had no idea about Anduin's plans and the bloody well question why Anduin saw them through. Restlessness? What was the reason for it? Anduin, who had learned to be patient his whole life? Were the battles to blame? Had he experienced too much for his peace-loving and kind soul? Yet, Anduin had grown up being taught to fulfill the expectations others put in him. Perhaps he grieved? Why hadn't he talked about it? Not even to her? All Jaina speculated about only proved that she had no concrete idea, either.

“Master Greymane. Lady Proudmoore. What a pleasure —“ here, Shaw sighed, “yet, the circumstances are not pleasant.”

Jaina nodded towards him. Realizing that Genn was still beside himself with rage and fear, she preferred to discuss details with Shaw of what to do next.

“Master Shaw,” she replied, “I'm sure Genn had told you all the necessary information.” She extended Anduin's letter to him. “But you should read for yourself.”

Mathias took the paper and skimmed through it. He paled.

“I didn't know... I didn't know...” He started, only to take a deep breath, looking at her. “I know him long enough, yet, recklessness is something I would've never associated with him. —The young king knows how to mask his emotions but he's a clear strategist, taught well in diplomacy and in the political theater from nowadays.”

Jaina nodded, listening intently. “To sum it all up,” here her voice turned towards kindness, “you have no idea —like us — what caused Anduin to do this.”

He nodded as well, relieved that she understood. “I observed him not feeling well in recent days. Not getting enough sleep. I know he sometimes takes detours to achieve his aim, but leaving behind —” here, he made a broad hand gesture, “all of this?” Shaw shook his head. “Something dreadful must have happened for him to leave. But I can't for the life of me imagine what.”

His consternation wasn't overlooked by Jaina, who stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. Cautiously and in low voice to not be heard by Genn who was still pacing and rumbling to himself she said: “I was thinking — perhaps the Light granted him a vision? Or it called to him?”

Shaw's look followed hers over to the Worgen. “He's out of his mind of worry. The young king is like a second son to him.”

“I know.” Jaina sighed and turned back towards him. “Will you go and look for Anduin? Even in unusual places like churches and temples?”

Shaw glanced briefly at her. “You really think it is the Light that has called him?”

Jaina only gazed at Genn. “I just want to include every possibility, Master Shaw. And the Light is the only explanation I have as to why Anduin would drop entirely everything we all know he loves and fights for every day. — What would be yours?”

“A threat.” It was a short answer, but enough.

Jaina had a steady gaze when she asked: “What kind of threat?”

*

After drinking the clean water of the well, Anduin sank back into the grass and watched the skittering clouds in the sky. Would he end up like those clouds above him? Chasing her like a ghost, always close but never close enough? Give up the ghost, he told himself, but he couldn't. Even if she were never to be his, everywhere he went he saw her face. It was burned in his mind. The Light in him, feeling his distress, was whirling so quickly, he couldn't even think, and blurred his vision.

Suddenly, a face bent over him, smiling down at him. Cold hands dived over his clothes, touching, caressing, searching. Anduin couldn't resist a groan as he felt pressed down by a weight, familiar and longed for, as female curves came to lie atop him and moved slowly along his body. It was torture. It was heaven. He felt the cold hands again and the way they dived underneath his clothes this time forced a sharp intake of breath out of him. A burning captured him when he sensed his shirt opening button by button, hands running down his naked skin from his chest down to his side to the hips, and then to the place where he burned the most. He shook with the intensity of the heat that threatened to scorch him —

A sudden cry made him jolt awake. It had begun to darken. Disoriented, he looked around, only to see flames on the other side of the Nezfariti river, the dried wood and grasses catching fire fast.


	3. Westfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N**
> 
> I am a bit stuck in my other stories, and I want them to meet, therefore expect the next chapters sooner!   
> A heartfelt thank you, _Windcage_ and _Taedae_.  
>  And a wonderful thank you to _my writer's family_ over on discord who spurs me on. Love ya!

 

Anduin was brutally ripped off his dream when he heard the screams again in the distance. Light, wasn't that the outer field of the Saldean's Farm on the other side of the river? He had heard a lot of stories of Westfall's farms while being young.

He acted in seconds, dived with one jump into the cold water of the stream, swimming quickly across the river. Climbing the embankment he could already feel the heat of the flames. The steady wind, coming from the sea, kept the fields and the land barren with drought before it lost its power in the green woodlands of Elwynn Forest and therefore Westfall was an easy target for flames in general. Years of neglect and conflict had not improved the situation. He heard shouts and cries and remembered that the Saldeans were kind-hearted people who had begun to care for the homeless in recent years - as he was told – and fed many orphans and all who stepped over the threshold of their farm. The couple stubbornly refused to leave their home despite all the hardship they had to endure and instead tried to help all who suffered misfortune or sickness.

It wasn't until later that it came to him how headless he had thrown himself such a dangerous situation without thinking twice. Beside the fire, the Stormwind Army could have arrived or the Westfall Brigade, and he could have been recognized. Luckily, none of it happened. He had met only two seniors and five other dark figures who were desperately trying to extinguish the fire with water while shouting orders into the night. He had joined inf without asking and done what was commanded of him.

Minutes turned to hours. Anduin's clothes had dried while helping the others and it wasn't before they all sat back in the farm, around midnight, that he was asked who he was. Upon his return from the rear side of the farm, having healed the other three who were severely injured as best as he could, a bowl of soup with bread was put into his hand by the senior woman herself. The glimmer of his Light that had filled the simple, but the cozy home of the Saldeans had shined like a beacon of hope out into the night. And it had illuminated the forefront of the farm.

Two kind-hearted brown eyes looked at Anduin who was worn out and guided him to a chair. “What's your name?”

Anduin took place, looked up to the woman and smiled exhaustedly. He had removed the hood, and his blonde hair still in a ponytail was dirty from the ashes in the air, so he didn't look like his usual shiny self. Light, his voice sounded hoarse from all the smoke he had inhaled, too. “Llane. My name is Llane.”

She nodded, watching him. “I'm Salma Saldean. Over there is my husband.” A small smile crept over her face. “Welcome to our humble abode! It's always nice to see a friendly face. And what strong arms you have. My husband and I are always looking for help around the farm. Now that most of the good folk have left, it's hard to find an able body to help out.”

Her husband joined in, offering his hand to Anduin. “I'm Farmer Saldean. - You were more than help! You rescued even our volunteer helpers. Thank you for saving some of our fields and of course for tending to the injured. Rough times, huh, Llane? No matter where you turn someone needs help, and my wife and I are no exception.”

Anduin shook his hand. “I know, Farmer Saldean. Never lose hope. The weak will come to lean on you.” He leaned a bit forward, keeping his smile. “I firmly believe that one day help will arrive for you.”

The farmer looked astonished at Anduin while hearing his last words but returned the smile. “Been in Westfall all my life, Llane. I can remember a day when Westfall was the lushest land this side of Stranglethorn Vale. Those days are long gone; believe me.”

Salma put a hand onto her husband's arm. “Let the young man eat first before you ask him more questions. He's truly exhausted.”

Anduin sent another grateful smile towards the senior woman and ate the thick soup with a large spoon while he was observed by the two other homeless humans who had helped too, and seemed to have a permanent stay here. He didn't mind, as tired as he felt, and enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere in the Saldean's home -

The door flew open, and somebody stormed in. A beautiful woman, clad in black-red armor, wielding two daggers and wearing a red bandana as a face mask.

“Mother. Father. Are you alright?” The words muted, her look flew around, taking notice of the surroundings. “I came as fast as I could after hearing of the fire...”

Salma stepped forward and embraced the woman. “The fire has been extinguished, so there is no reason for alarm, Hope. We had help.”

Farmer Saldean neared the two and laid a hand on the woman's shoulder. “Salma is right. We are okay.”

Anduin who had watched the whole scene, like the others, wondered, amazed in the first moment what it was about, revelation coming a moment later. The one who had walked in could be no other than the famous Vanessa VanCleef, head of the Defias Brotherhood. A legend told that it was founded by a group of noblemen who once stood for freedom and justice and then turned into a group of former stonemasons assassins, thieves, brigands and pirates that were seeking to overthrow the Kingdom of Stormwind. They had started under his father's reign, and Anduin knew that today's goal had shifted to destroy the House of Nobles in Stormwind City - the underground war still going on. The mysterious Defias faction was known to be operating worldwide now. And the woman who had just entered the farm was the head of it.

And hadn't he been once a part of their plot as well? Anduin's appetite was suddenly gone. Perhaps it was time for him to leave. Yet, there had been warmth and worry on the Leader of the Defias Brotherhood's voice, and the way she had approached the elder couple who ran the farm made him hesitate.

She had taken them to the kitchen, and he heard them talking. She glanced at him, so he concentrated back on the soup and the bread, staying calm. He was dead-tired again. The fire, the healing, it had all cost him the strength he had wanted to use for another long walk and to reach for his goal. And at one go, the Warchief of the Horde was back in his thoughts. How long would it take him to contact her, finally? And to see her? He remembered the dream he had had on the bank of the river, before. The feelings rushed in one flow back to him, the excitement, the Light started to stir in him...

“And who are you and what are you doing here?”

The surprisingly dark, but melodious voice tore him out of his musing.

Anduin just stared at the figure with the red bandana and answered, his voice still hoarse. “My name is Llane. - I'm just on my way through Westfall.”

“Where to?”

He wasn't inclined to let more on. “Towards south.”

“Hmm.” A scrutinizing look from dark eyes was sent his way.

“There's more to this land than meets the eye.” He noticed.

She nodded, her musical voice a bit mocking. “There is, just Llane. Our king sits atop his throne made of gold and shrugs at our plight. Meanwhile, our children die of starvation on these very streets. His war, not ours, cost us our livelihood. The government of Stormwind, of the Alliance, must be made accountable for what it has done to us!”

Anduin glanced up at her, her accusation stirring something in him. “Now is not a time for that. There's work to be done here.”

She laughed at his reply. “Look at you. Having figured it all out on your way here?” She leaned down to him. “Prove it with less talk and more action. I've heard you're skilled in healing. - Are you?”

Did she doubt him? Her voice changed to a threatening tone. “I have another one who needs healing. If you prove to be who you are, then I'll let you go. If not - well, here's your last chance.”

Anduin stood his ground and responded in a determined manner. “Let me see the patient.”

Some of his calmness seemed to transpire to her, too.

“Well, then. Follow me.” She turned around and towards the elderly couple that had returned from the kitchen, embraced them and said: “I'll take him with me.”

Farmer Saldean nodded. “Promise us you will let him go. He helped us a great deal.”

She smirked at them and nodded back. “If he does what he says he's able to, I will. Father. Mother.”

Anduin too bid farewell to the Saldeans and thanked them for their hospitality while he followed Vanessa VanCleef outside. He would survive this, Anduin told himself, while approaching the two horses she had brought with her. He was already too tired to put up resistance. Mounting the one horse she pointed at, therefore showing her he was able to ride, he followed her into an unknown destination. It was nice to have a horse under him that was well-behaved and made moving forward much faster. Showing not too much of his horsemanship he just enjoyed the ride along with her. They were on their way for a while, leaving the official road until they arrived at – what Anduin thought could be Mortwake's Tower – a tower that laid hidden between some trees. In the distance, the Dagger Hills were recognizable. There was a dark figure with the famous red bandana standing next to the entrance, and Miss VanCleef nodded to her while she entered with Anduin behind her and closed the door. Candles showed a room with not much furniture in it and a steep staircase on the wall when she turned around.

An icy look met him. “There's work to be done, _here_. Don't you dare think of fleeing.”

They walked up the flight of stairs to get to the upper floors. Up in the attic, she showed Anduin a young boy who was lying on a bed and shaking violently. Fever? An older man sat next to him and stood up to make room when the guests came closer. The big shot wound on the back became apparent.

Anduin lost no time, kneeled in front of the young boy's bed and started on calling the Light which answered him immediately.

“This may take some time.” He said to the woman waiting behind him. “My capability is one of efficiency and longevity. Have some faith in me.”

“Words are petty,” was all she answered and continued to stay where she was.

Not caring for her presence any longer, Anduin slowly started the healing process, well aware of his tiredness. He mended broken bones, healed the inflammation and sutured skin where it was needed. What had only happened? The boy seemed to be around fourteen years old. One of the little thieves that were known to grope for wallets in Stormwind from time to time when festivities took place?

When Anduin had finished his work, he just sat back and looked at the young boy, a lot of questions unanswered in his head. And he was giving in to his weariness a bit, too, that's why he sensed Lady VanCleef close to him only when she leaned forward, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Her voice was low. “You are skilled. I didn't want to believe my foster parents at first.”

Another careful look met him, doubting. “Who are you? Few exist who wield the Light with the intensity you do.”

Anduin stood very slowly up and shook his head, signaling towards the young boy. “We should let him rest.”

She nodded, aware of his cautious behavior. “You have nothing to fear, here.”

Walking down to the room below, Anduin promptly swayed a bit from all of today's demands and was just pushed down into an armchair. He was glad for the ale that she dropped in his hands. “Hungry, too?”

He took a sip of the excellent beer and shook his head. “Your mother's soup was good. I am drained.” A small smile flew over his face. “And I haven't had much sleep lately.”

Now she had the time to watch Anduin thoroughly, and she did. There were worn clothes and a hood to hide his face usually, yet he had removed the veil. Blonde, almost golden hair that was held back in a ponytail. Very bright and blue eyes. A determined jaw and impressive eyebrows. He was dirty all over with a touch of black, assumedly from extinguishing the fire. The Saldeans had told her about his help. His whole posture, the calmness in him and the way he spoke pointed at a well educated young man underneath. She tried to remember the handsome face. It reminded her of someone, but she couldn't grasp who. Then, she leaned forward. “You didn't tell me who you are.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does. In case I need you again. I don't need to tell you that being a healer takes guts, quick wits and nerves of steel.”

Anduin's mouth twitched. “I didn't know of such things.”

“Either way, you came in handy. I will reward you well.”

He shook his head. “Your offer sounds generous, but I won't be here for a long time. Just going through.”

She rose her eyebrows. “Where to?”

This time, he answered her question. Perhaps it was the beer. He already sensed its effect. “Booty Bay.”

“To the pirates? What do you want there?”

Did he trust her? He sighed but decided to go for it. “Taking a ship over to Ratchet.”

“Horde's land? - What would such a person like you want to find there?”

He closed his eyes shortly. What now? He didn't want to lie. “I was kissed. I'm trying to find _her_.”

An unexpected smile flew over her face, and Anduin saw it because she had taken her red bandana away.

“Trying to find the beloved one?” She teased him, but he nodded. When Vanessa recognized the seriousness in his face, her tone changed. “But you are from the Alliance side. May I ask how you met a Horde girl?”

There was this rare smile on his face again, and it was like his whole face shimmered with Light. “On the battlefield. And I did never expect her to kiss me... in such a way.”

Vanessa took her time before she responded. “I see.” Another careful look met him. “Llane, what did you do on a battlefield? The last one was in Lordaeron, as I recall.”

He was digging into dangerous waters when she came close and didn't lose eye contact. Suddenly, she drew one of her daggers and aimed it against his chest. “I won't repeat myself. _Who_ are you?”

Anduin weighed for a short moment what to tell her and stood up in one swift moment, the dagger pressed against him. “Your king,” was all he said.

Shock, confusion and something like recognition dawned in Lady VanCleef's eyes when she pulled the dagger back. “No way.”

He sighed. “Can I leave, now?”

She held him back. “Tell me the truth.”

“I just did.”

She shook her head. “Why would the king himself show up here? You are dressed like a beggar. Where's your shiny armor and your sword? Where are your troops?”

Since he had already admitted the truth, he didn't care for much more. “I left them at home. All of them. At Stormwind Keep.”

She stared at him, still not believing him. The dagger was again tangling in her hand at her side.

Anduin sighed again. “Look, Lady VanCleef. I don't have time for this, and I want to catch a boat. Will you let me go or do I have to heal another person first? - How about you? You're still bleeding here.” And softly, he pointed his finger towards her shoulder.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know all about the Defias Brotherhood how you plotted against my father. And me, although I was only ten years old.”

Mouth agape, she stared at him. “You _are_ King Wrynn of Stormwind?”

He merely nodded, summoned the Light again and closed her bleeding wound cautiously.

“Not the first scar on your body, I see. - But to mend all the others, I would need more time which I don't have. Will you let me go now, Lady VanCleef?”

“First you have to tell me why you're here. Am I to expect to have the full Stormwind army storming in here the next moment?”

“As I told you, I'm alone,” Anduin spoke in earnest, “and I would rather prefer you keeping silent about this little incident.”

Suddenly she sacked down on the chair next to him. “I'm going mad. I have the king here, but I didn't recognize him. What am I to do?”

Anduin smiled at her dramatic choice of words. “Nothing,” he replied gently. He kneeled to her, being on the same eye level now to make her realize they communicated as equals. “You don't have to fear for anything, Lady VanCleef.” He paused for a moment before he carried on. “Yet, when I come back, you and I will have a talk. I need to know what went wrong with my citizens and what I can do to improve the situation here. Will you come when I call for you?”

Now, she started to laugh. “Of course. - Who am I to despise my king?”

“That's the spirit.” He answered her and turned to leave, but she held him back with the tip of her dagger.

“It's dangerous in Kalimdor. _I_ don't need to tell you that. Do you dare cross that line and risk your life? What makes you go over there?”

Anduin smiled a tired and sad smile. “Love? I don't know,” he said quietly.

She pulled the dagger back, sheathed it and watched him thoroughly again. “You will need all the luck in this world.”

“I will. Certainly. - But for now, I have to catch a boat.”

She shook her head. “The goblins won't let you sail with them unless you have enough money with you.”

“I haven't.” He confessed. “But I will earn it.”

“Thought so.” She answered and stood. "Go to the Salty Tailor Inn in Booty Bay. Ask after Skindle, he's the Innkeeper and mention my name. I'm sure he has work for you. You can earn your transferring there. He owes me. We deliver some of the finest smugglings to him.”

“Thank you,” Anduin answered, amazed to no end. “Why are you helping your king now whom you were so quick to judge earlier?”

There was a moment when she hesitated. “Because we both lost our fathers under dire and cruel circumstances?” Vanessa shot him a glance. “And you might understand my mission better now after you met my foster parents.”

“I do,” Anduin admitted after a while. “Keep them well protected.”

“I cannot always be in two places at once,” Vanessa said dryly, but smiled. “As long as persons such as you come by, they might have all the help they need and won't need mine. - Thank you for helping them.”

He smiled back. “Thank you for letting me go, Leader of the Defias Brotherhood.”

“Be careful in Stranglethorn Valley! Wait, there is something else I can do for you. We have a small boat left on the Nazferiti river. It's just around the corner here, and you can't miss it. Take it. You can at least use it to pass through the rest of Westfall and Duskwood on the other side and into the part of Stranglethorn north. Be prepared for all! - I'm looking forward to that talk, your majesty. So don't disappoint me.”

Another smile was around Anduin's lips. “I won't. - See you, Lady VanCleef.”

*

It didn't take long for Anduin to find the small rowboat that was tied at the banks of the river nearby. The sun sent its first rays over the water when he departed, trying to get a feeling for the boat's navigation on the Nazferiti river as it gained momentum. The day promised to be pleasant and the young king, tired again, started to squint in the bright sun that made the water glistening. It blinded his eyes, and for a moment he saw her, Lady Windrunner. She glanced back over her shoulder, smiling, face half hidden by the hood of her cloak. No words, just the beckoning smirk. Was it an invitation to follow her? His breath came in hard and fast bursts of air as he reached for her, and touched the billowing purple cloak. His fingers passed through it like smoke, and with a soundless sigh, the cloak dissolved, taking with it the fading vision as he lunged forward. He tried to cry out but could not. And there was nothing except loss and yearning.

He awoke into glaring light with a jolt, his breath shuddering as he sat bolt-upright. The boat had run aground, but it was alright. Sweat cooled on his body, and his heart hammered as Anduin jumped into the water that was warm to make the rowboat afloat again. Where was he? The landscape had changed into lush green and palm trees at the banks of the Nazferiti river. The low temperature of the morning had given way to intense heat. Even the water's color was now a turquoise blue. He must have already arrived at Stranglethorn.

Then, he remembered the dream. Yes. Something about a cloak. Sylvanas' cloak. Anduin closed his eyes and traced his vision while he entered his boat. She was like smoke in his arms, winding around him, her hair a fragrant veil. It had been so long since he had held her. His body ached, burned with the need to claim her, to make sure that this time she was his. _He was for her_. _She was for him_.


	4. Stranglethorn Vale, Booty Bay and Ratchet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N**
> 
> Thank you, my wonderful companions, _Windcage_ and _Taedae_.
> 
> Thank you, _Ryuujin_ , _Buntheridon_ , _Nevijek_ and _KaedeRavensdale_. I'm happy to have you, although I've been rarely online.

 

The river gathered speed again, and Anduin had his hands full of steering. On the one side, he was glad about the rate which made it possible to pass all the camps on the riverside perhaps undetected, on the other hand, it was risky to navigate through the wild water.

In the end, it had been the right decision to choose daylight to go down the river. The sun had already reached its peak and put Stranglethorn Vale in a glaring light, especially the stream who broadened piece by piece until Anduin passed the Nazferiti Lake. When he neared the place where he knew an orc camp to be, he lied flatly down in the rowboat and tried to stay very calm, making it seem it was just a boat that floated down the river, empty.

The more the south neared, the more lush green grew around him. The roots of some trees hung already into the river, and he had to take care of the navigation again. He started sweating and often scooped water from the river in his mouth, being thirsty, not caring of how clean the water was. It was a wild ride, the river rushed over the rocks, and its bank concealed under dense jungle. When he suddenly heard the loud noise of wild water, Anduin knew he had to pay attention now because he neared the raging whirlpool, a giant sinkhole that split Stranglethorn Vale and was called 'the Sundering' at its center. It was very dangerous. He had to circumvent it, and it wasn't easy, to get out on the open sea because the whirls of the river formally pulled him toward that direction.

Completely worn-out due to the rowing, Anduin welcomed the nightfall and its coolness. Hungry, but comforting himself that he had succeeded to follow the direction of Cape of Stranglethorne and Booty Bay, passing the Gurubashi Arena and a small goblin port town, he enjoyed the moonlight over the quiet sea while drifting not far from the coast and not too close to the cliffs.

For a moment, he leaned back and looked into the starry sky. Smiling the moment a cold body appeared next to him. Sylvanas was there, he could feel it, he only needed to extend his hand – heat jolted through him as he grasped her hand and their fingers brushed. Anduin groaned. She was so close to him, but not close enough. He needed her much closer. He enveloped her in his arm, craving her physical nearness and contact. He hardly dared believe she was there when he felt her soft lips trailing fire on his jaw, her tongue the sweetest caress. He turned his head to capture her mouth. One slight nudge, one taste, and one kiss, it made him high on emotions and not wanting to lose her again. She wriggled against him, her hands provoking a tender fire on his body. She teased, tracing his quivering inner thighs, skirting his need, brushing lightly over his hardened length so that he lifted against her hand in frenzied want. A mist began to drift between them. He clung to her in despair, but she slid through his fingers – and he woke, reaching out, his voice hoarse. "Sylvanas."

Another look in the sky told him that dawn arrived. Sighing and aching, he rowed with a steady stroke to keep him distracted, the refreshing wind helping him to make progress. Finally, in the late afternoon – because the waves of the sea had been gentle – Booty Bay came in sight.

Anduin was happy to stand on solid ground and tried to tie the boat on the side of the first landing stage where he arrived, tired to the bones. Booty Bay was a big pirate port city nestled into the cliffs surrounding a beautiful blue lagoon on the southern tip of Stranglethorn Vale. He walked along the wooden planks, looking for the tavern he assumed was at the end of the other side of the city. He walked upward to the big blue shark that was hanging down from the wreck of a pirate ship, having seen the famous sign that every tavern in Azeroth had hanging outside: a beer mug on a wooden shield.

Following it, he entered. Early evening found the Salty Sailor Tavern already full with thirsty people. Coming from the bright sunlight outside, Anduin had to squint because the interior of the tavern was dark and it took time before his eyes adapted to it. It didn't take long for him to find the bar and there, he asked after Innkeeper Skindle.

Anduin looked wild and more like a pirate who belonged here as he stood in the tavern. Still a bit dirty from the fire at the Saldean's farm, the stubbles had grown into a three-day-beard, his hair dyed, the clothes bleached from spending almost two days on reflecting water and his skin had become sunburned.

The grumpy goblin appeared after some time and crossed his long and slender arms, scrutinizing Anduin from head to toe with raised eyebrows while the young king asked for a job and mentioned Lady VanCleef very discreetly. With his green skin and the long, sharp nose, chin and ears, Skindle was well respected among the inhabitants of Booty Bay. Besides, he led one of the most famous taverns on Azeroth, Anduin knew that as well.

Dressed in light leather pants and a white shirt, Skindle nodded in the end. “I have always work for one such as you.”

Anduin was relieved to hear it. “Thank you.”

"Well met, traveler. There's an opportunity to be had if you're clever enough."

“I just need work.”

Skindle grinned. “As long as you keep your nose clean in my tavern.” Then, he turned towards another goblin. “Nixxrax. Show our new vendor here around.” His gaze wandered back to Anduin. “Let's give him a shower and something to dress first.”

Nixxrax Fillamug nodded but gave Anduin a sullen look when he took him with him.

*

It didn't take long for Anduin to finally get to know the Salty Sailor Tavern by heart. He was happy that he had reached the ability to shower, to eat and to drink, and was dressed in a white shirt and light leather pants like all who worked here. He was still exhausted, but the excitement for work helped him to overcome it.

The tavern split into three parts: the upper floor with a red carpet and tables and chairs, looking like a kind of gallery. The lower level with the bar, a green-golden carpet – which seemed to be Skindle's pride and joy –, and some cozy corners that were preferred by the regular audience. Then there was the unique part, looking like the inside of a ship with the guest rooms, and at the second floor the place for the guests who were prominent like Baron Revilgaz, the de facto ruler of Booty Bay.

Mostly built from local wood, the tavern's dark interior made it a cozy place and offered coolness to the guests that were coming in from the tropical heat outside. Glass vases with colorful flowers on every table made the impression of a well-kept tavern. The hanging bridge that connected its parts contributed even more to the tavern's distinctive appearance.

The first evening, Anduin's task was to restock the shelves, and later, when it was crowded, he was on bar duty as well. He learned how to make all kind of guests happy in serving them something to drink.

Among the first regular guests he got to know on his next days was Airwyn Bantamflax, a gnome and also a high ranking member of the Explorer's League, an organization dedicated to researching the origin of the dwarven race, as he was told by herself. There was not much going on this evening, so she engaged him in a conversation. She enjoyed drinking 'Junglevine Wine' and started flirting with him after she had told him about the many archeological dig-sites in all corners of Azeroth, from Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms to Outland, because she had been quite astonished as to when Anduin knew a lot about them. They started a discussion; the young king's interest in history always had made him curious for ancient dig-sites as well.

“You are cute!” She winked at him.

Anduin smiled shyly back, first not knowing what to answer her.

Airwyn grinned. “I cannot find you completely disagreeable, you know. A human who knows about archeology, that's rare. What's your name, handsome?”

Anduin hesitated first but replied finally. "Llane."

The female gnome who was just able to look over the counter tilted her head. “Llane, hm. – What is a _human_ like you doing here?”

Anduin rose his eyebrows. “Working to earn some money?”

She laughed heartily, and at this moment, a female dwarf joined her. Red hair, a blue-red dress, and a winning smile – who reminded Anduin not only of the Alliance but also of Aerin Stonehand, his former bodyguard and warrior trainer during his stay in Ironforge – the young king was introduced to Linzi Hewstrike who was a merchant and a member of the Explorer's League, too.

“Hey, Airwyn.” The dwarf's look followed Anduin who returned to draw beer. “And whom do we have here? I like tall men.” She giggled and leaned over to the gnome, whispering: “Did Skindle make a new acquisition?”

“Seems so, Linzi." Airwyn grinned. "His name is Llane. And his ability to form a complete sentence is a plus. Just before you arrived, I had a nice discussion with him."

Nixxrax who had watched the two throwing glances after Anduin had gotten a little jealous of the young human who stole the attention the goblin was used to and came by. "What can I sell our lovely ladies?"

“I prefer wine to beer, as you know.” Airwyn lifted her empty bottle and presented it the eager goblin.

“A Flagon of Dwarven Mead, as always,” Linzi Hewstrike ordered outright.

Nixxrax nodded and shouted over to Anduin: “Hey! Get a bottle of Junglevine Wine and Dwarven Mead over here, right away!”

It was evident that he liked to command the young man around. When he made his round to the upper floors, Linzi leaned over the counter.

“Don't mind him, pretty boy.” She chuckled. “Our nice goblin is usually in a good mood.”

Anduin had to smile at her words. “I know,” he commented.

Linzi turned to Airwyn at her side. "Not only a pretty boy but a gentleman as well, who would've thought." She turned back to the bar. "Where's your home?"

Anduin declined politely. “Home is everywhere. And we're all far from home.”

Two curious looks met him, but Linzi insisted. “But where are _you_ going to?”

The young human had an enigmatic smile. “Where my heart carries me.”

The gnome and the dwarf both rolled their eyes, not knowing how honest Anduin was, and Airwyn continued. “You work here for the money, then?”

Anduin only nodded.

“Where to, pretty boy?"

“Let's see how far I get.” Anduin was tired of that question and gazed at the female duo on the other side of the counter. “If you don't mind, there's work to be done here.”

Linzi grinned and leaned over the counter, talking while Anduin got back to his bar duty. "You know, there's a story behind the 'Pretty Boy' –," she took a deep breath, "Duncan, a handsome human like you with dark hair, lived and was well known around here. He was previously in a relationship with Catelyn Runeweaver, another human from here. Our best knife fighter in Booty Bay, by the way – but that is another story to tell – and they were quite a famous and beautiful couple! But they broke up because Catelyn found out he was involved with the Bloodsail Buccaneers, the sworn enemies of Booty Bay. He also stole her knife. That's what happens when your heart carries you. We hope the same won't happen to you?"

Anduin, touched by her words, was reminded of Sylvanas. They were sworn enemies, too. Did she ever think of him? Did she approve of him coming to her at all? What would happen once they met? _Until_ he saw her personally, there was no answer possible to those burning questions that accompanied him since he had left Stormwind. And speaking of Stormwind – what were Jaina and Genn doing? He was gone for over a week now. He just prayed for the best and turned back toward his work, the urge and the need to go to _her_ still strong. He was of no use, not before he had the clarity of what she felt. A passage over to Kalimdor was waiting for him, Orgrimmar almost within his grasp.

*

Working every day, it happened that Anduin got to know a lot of people, mostly from around Booty Bay. Always a smile on his lips, he caught the ladies easily with his appearance. When they detected he was polite, too, he became a magnet. Skindle saw it with both joy and mistrust, but he couldn't complain about the extra client base the young human seemed to draw here, notably because he rejected all flirts kindly, but determined behind the counter which made the clients not drink less but order more, much to the goblin's amusement. Must be in love, Skindle assumed, as he observed the human with Arcanist Arman, the forsaken, whom he had a lively and more extended conversation with which the goblin wondered about, knowing the usual bias humans had against the undead.

Anduin was fascinated that he was allowed to have social interaction with all sorts of races here, even with an undead, not being under anyone's observation and free from all kind of prejudices. It was so easy to talk to Arman, who offered him quickly to use the personal verb form after he had overcome his first distrust of the human, and the forsaken meant it sincerely. With ease, Anduin had him convinced that his interest was genuine – although the young man was aware of the irony that he wasn't able to tell him that the Queen of the Forsaken had kissed _him_ – which was why he wanted to know as much as possible about her people. Arman made him laugh with his clumsy tries to flirt while he told the High King of the Alliance unknowingly stories he usually only told Horde adventurers.

Even his goblin friend had shown interest in the young human, Skindle thought. Sassy Hardwrench, Skindle's good friend, often coming over from Hardwrench Hideaway – a goblin port which was named after her because she had played an essential role in working to rescue the goblins from the Lost Isles – to visit and chat with him while enjoying a drink, complimented him about his new catch. Her female goblin friend, Innkeeper Draxle, who owned the Inn in Hardwrench Hideaway, had even tried to entice the human away but had been unsuccessful, much to Skindle's delight.

But the goblin also saw that Anduin earned himself a right amount of tip and knew it wouldn't take long that his short investment – he had done mostly on behalf of the mentioning of Lady VanCleef – would be gone. Anduin almost had his money together for the passage to Ratchet, Skindle had heard him speak about it to Nixxrax.

It was just a day of sweltering heat later, as Anduin had hauled the beer barrels that had just arrived by ship into the tavern's storage room – Skindle was enjoying his lunch – when another new guest entered the half-empty tavern, walking toward the bar with a sway of the hips.

Anduin who had followed the new guest came to a halt. His eyes needed a bit time to adjust, therefore was all he could see at first an impressive bow that hung behind a female back. Broad shoulder pauldrons. A reddish purple cloak, a hood, and high-pointed elven ears. Platinum hair that sneaked out. The clicking of heels.

It came like a shock. He was trying to hold onto his balance. _Sylvanas_ was here? How? Why? His heart skipped a beat, and he grasped the next chair, staggering. Her vision blurred in front of his eyes. _Hold on_ , he thought in despair when she turned around and came towards him. Stirred up, he felt himself burning. Glowing red eyes that smoldered down on him – what was he to do?

“You're here?" He murmured, looking up to her, completely confused as to what was real and what was his imagination, and in his emotional turmoil the Light had already collected inside of him. A different voice helped him to find back.

“Have we met? You don't seem like such a bad guy...,” the dark ranger grinned down on him with a deeper voice than that of the Warchief of the Horde, “but, let's talk, human.”

“I'm fine," Anduin stuttered, coming slowly back to his senses. Gaining his composure back, he stood and glanced shortly at her. "I'm fine. Thank you."

He took a deep breath, still pale, still glimmering a bit, and embarrassed because of it.

Red eyes scrutinized him from head to toe, and she leaned a bit forward. "You're a light-wielder," she whispered in his ear, "what are you doing _here_?”

Anduin summoned his courage. “I'm working here. You want something to drink?” He asked her as unobtrusive as possible and walked back to the counter where he continued to do so as if nothing had happened.

But inside, he was rattled. How _deep_ was he already affected when he couldn't distinguish reality from imagination anymore? He knew it was a dangerous road he walked down. It was time for him to leave. He needed to meet _her_ , the sooner, the better for himself. Otherwise, this slow spiral into madness wasn't far away from him anymore.

The next day, more determined than ever, Anduin counted his money, slipped back into his old clothes and took his farewell from the Salty Sailor Tavern to catch the boat to Ratchet. Skindle saw him reluctantly go. Somehow, he had started to like the quiet, very polite human that had done what he was told and had attracted customers, enabling him to withdraw a bit from the busy business when the young man had taken responsibility of the bar, more than anyone ever had. Yes, he had to ask Lady VanCleef one day after him.

*

Anduin was finally on the boat and took the next step of his journey. 'The Maiden's Fancy' sailed, and they were leaving Booty Bay. Captain Krick Wrenchnozzle, who commanded the boat that ran between the ports of Ratchet and Booty Bay, was a male goblin with a pirate's hat. He had been set by Baron Revilgaz personally as the captain's ship. Therefore he had a good reputation among the sailors.

They were five who had paid for the transit: a tauren, a goblin, a blood elf, a pandaren and him which was why Captain Wrenchnozzle had no problem to deploy them to work. The rest of the passage Anduin spent a lot of time in the sails, climbing up and down with the rest of the crew, always ready since the weather was not stable. Unfortunately, Galley Chef Steelbelly had 'his days' again – the team knowing what they talked about – and Anduin often fell hungry in his gently swinging hammock after the work shifts. He didn't mind. He just wanted to survive the last days of his journey towards Kalimdor. The dreams had intensified. They immediately came once he closed his eyes and drifted away. They left him trembling with want in his hammock. As if a part of his consciousness sensed she wasn't out of reach anymore, across the blue ocean, towards the west he sailed closer to every day. He was waiting for the arrival, one part of him dreading it, one part craving it. His heart was beating faster when he became aware of how almost, almost, he neared the same continent where she was. Ratchet wasn't far from Orgrimmar. He was yearning, aching, burning again, his nights getting restless. Questions torturing him, how it would be, their first meeting. How would it pass off?

*

The moment they arrived at Ratchet in the early morning, everything went too fast. Anduin had become friends with the other passengers, and they had decided to travel together to the Crossroads, where the tauren, the pandaren, and the blood elf wanted to take the road into other parts of Kalimdor – they urged Anduin to accompany them, fearing for the kind young human. Anduin hadn't told them outright he wanted into Orgrimmar, but to Far Watch Post where he knew was a bridge to cross the Southfury River and to get into Durotar.

It didn't take long for them to find a caravan which needed an escort, and around noon, the little procession which was on its original way to Far Watch Post – Anduin thought himself lucky, planning to stay with the caravan until the end – via the Crossroads got going.

“Everybody on board! The caravan's leaving for Far Watch Post!”

Balgor Whipshank, the orc who led it, was riding a Chief Caravan Kodo and had three humongous kodos behind, at which side respectively one of the traveler's group positioned himself.

Following the road, they left the coast and the cliffs, upward the hill, where an arid savanna opened in front of them. The heated air made the caravan go slowly along the route between the plains. Palm trees gave way to tenacious scrub trees, and to the west, the Stonetalon Mountains towered. It wasn't until the evening, as the sunset on the horizon and the repetitive surroundings took a reddish-golden color that they arrived at the Crossroads where they were allowed to pass without a further stop. The orc turned right, and just before the gates, they stopped, rested at the wall and set up a night camp.

“It's safe here," Balgor Whipshank explained, and that was where they all spent the night, between the kodos. Anduin kept quiet among the others, staring in the sky, trying to calm his trembling with excitement when he thought of her and their reunion finally at hand before he was overwhelmed by sleep. Tomorrow morning had him leaving early, and Anduin bid farewell to his companions and set forth with the caravan in an easterly direction. Whipshank, not unfriendly, assured the others who gave him extra money that he would take care of the human. Therefore Anduin had to wear an axe and his hood up and to sit on one of the kodos. Now that they were nearing Durotar, Anduin felt himself in emotional turmoil again and became uneasy. The monotonous trot made him impatient and mad. The heat made him sweat and thirsty when he heard the orc's voice.

“How are you doing back there, human? Not too bumpy I hope.”

Anduin had to smile, despite his inner restlessness, replying in orcish. "Thank you. I'm fine."

The orc seemed to be in the mood for talking. "My family has been running caravan routes in the Barrens since Orgrimmar was settled. We raise and train the kodos ourselves. My sister Nagal is the best kodo breeder outside of Mulgore. - Bet you didn't know that a kodo can eat its own weight in grass each day. Sure is a lot to shovel when it comes out the other end."

Anduin continued smiling. “I didn't know that. Where I come from...”

He stopped himself, reminded of Stormwind and frowned when the worries had him again. By the Light, better not to touch upon that subject in his nervous condition. He was almost relieved that Balgor carried on and interrupted his train of thought.

“What does a human want here?”

Anduin sighed. “Following his heart?”

The orc roared of laughter. “In enemies' land?”

“I met _her_ on a battlefield in the Eastern Kingdoms.” The young king said after a while.

Balgor turned around. “That's far away. Does she know you are coming?”

Anduin threw him a desperate glance. “No.”

A pitiful look met him. "Then you better turn around, human."

“I won't give up until I found her in Orgrimmar,” Anduin answered him through clenched teeth.

The orc shook his head. “So that's where you want to go. And how do you get into Orgrimmar? I turn back after Far Watch Post.”

“I don't know yet,” Anduin told him fiercely. “Look, can we get there first? I've learned to take this journey step by step.”

The orc grinned. “In battle, human, the strategy is as important as strength. And courage –” He wanted to add more when suddenly nets flew over them, and they were both immediately trapped. The youngest of the kodos, in anxiety, pulled heavily at the leash that combined all beasts and made the others suddenly rotate. The sudden jerk threw off the riders, and both the orc and the human found themselves faster on the ground as expected, struggling against the nets.

Anduin had landed on his left hands' wrist and twisted it, tangled up in the net. He felt a sharp pain making him powerless for the moment while he heard Balgor grunt and curse and one of the ambushers saying: “The Burning Blade sends its greetings.”

There were three of them.

“Quickly now! Grab one of them while I take the supply cart!”

“Which one should I take?”

“The fat one! He'll make for a fine sacrifice.”

Balgor struggled in his net. “Help! Let me go!”

And this was the moment where Anduin, overcoming his agony, got a hold of himself and acted, every inch a king – yet not here – by summoning the Light.

“You won't take him." He was on his knees and launched short bolts of holy light at the darkly dressed orcs who fell surprised to the ground and were debilitated while he cast a protective shield over Balgor and him and healed the orc at the same time with his right hand.

Fighting with the net, he only watched astounded how the three orcs scrambled away, stood up and ran and when he just wondered about it, he felt the tip of a spear at his throat and heard another voice in common behind him.

“What does such a powerful _human_ light-wielder have to do here?”

Arms seized him and swiveled him around, still tangled in the net, only to look into the face of a grinning female jungle troll.

“Just what I was looking for. – Where do you have that strength from?” She stepped closer to scrutinize him and turned to Balgor who had been freed by her powerful team. “How much have you gotten for him? I heighten the price.” Inquiring, she watched the orc.

Anduin looked at her indignantly. “I'm not for sale.”

The female jungle troll with beautiful long red hair ignored him and continued. “You also get protection from us and can keep your supplies, wherever you are heading. - And I'll let you live and spare you the Arena, how about that?”

Balgor seemed to contemplate her offer, freed of the net now, and Anduin knew he was on a lost position here.

“No price for him. You escort me to Far Watch Post and back to the Crossroads?”

The female troll nodded. “Of course. You will come with us.”

“Deal.” With a handshake, the orc and the troll sealed the deal. Then, Balgor turned to the young man. “I honor you for healing me, but a deal's deal. This is your chance for Orgrimmar. Lok'tar ogar.”

The female troll, named Volda Gan'dra, faced the young king and tilted her head. “A healer, hm.” She nodded towards the other trolls. “Might come in handy in the Arena, right?”

Anduin, still in pain, was too tired to argue with her when she gave her orders in Zandali, the troll language, until she turned back to him. “I put you in chains, and I expect no resistance, is that understood? You won't use your light. If I catch you with it, your hand is gone. You can do the healing once we are in the Brawl'gar Arena.” And then, she added: “Keep staring. I enjoy awkward silence.”

She was already thinking of the fame and the money she would earn herself for bringing new “flesh” to the Brawl'gar Arena as they set out.

They reached Far Watch Post in the afternoon, and Anduin was already exhausted. The pain, doubled by the weight of the chain on his broken wrist, was his permanent companion from now on. Walking was torture because he had too much time to let the mind wander and only the certainty to approach his goal, of meeting Sylvanas, made him endure it all patiently. Then, they crossed the famous bridge into the Southfury Watershed, entering Durotar – and the young king was breathless for a moment because he saw the impressive Gates of Orgrimmar in the distance. They passed through the Watershed the shortest way possible, the jungle troll urging them forward, and Anduin took solace from the thought of _her_ being really within reach. Finally.


	5. Orgrimmar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N**
> 
>  
> 
> This is it - the first **HEARTBEAT** of the story. Find a place to rest and enjoy.

Wasn't it strange? No human had ever dared to enter Orgrimmar lately and yet, here Anduin was, the High King of the Alliance and King of Stormwind standing in chains in front of the impressive Gates of Orgrimmar. Finally, his dreams were coming true.

However, nothing was like it had seemed weeks before. He knew he could free himself, using his Light, but he hadn't done so before, and he hesitated now. Besides, this was a perfect chance – if not the best – for him to get into the city the most discreet way. He had already seen one of the SI:7 agents – one whose face he often had observed together with Mathias Shaw, his spymaster – hanging around among the traders who waited patiently to be let into the city. The young king knew the spies were looking for him since he was missing now for over fifteen days. But he wasn't inclined to get caught, at least not before he had met _her_ , Lady Sylvanas Windrunner in person, now, that she was so close at hand.

The small group of prisoners was to follow first into the Hall of the Brave, large barracks located in the Valley of Honor in the Orc capital of Orgrimmar. Anduin didn't dare to look left or right while they walked through the city, grateful for his hood still on which protected him from unwelcome looks although he burned to see the famous Horde capital. When they finally came to a stop on the first floor in a big, dark hall with dummies at the side, he held his breath. Nobody other than High Overlord Varok Saurfang himself was in the door and looked the prisoners all over. No. No, please not. He looked down playing obedience. Not that he was fatigued and felt drained as well. But he shouldn't be detected here. No way. He sensed the orc walking by, almost hesitating and remembered their last encounter, closing his eyes and trying to go utterly still inside. He just waited for the elder orc who had spared him on the battlefield in front of the Gates of Lordaeron to go by – and Saurfang did, in the end.

 _Lordaeron_. The memory of an unforgettable kiss was present in Anduin's mind again, and its intimate contact that had shaken him to the core and had filled his whole being with the Light. The intensity of it still had an impact in every fiber of his body. Her cold lips' touch, the moment their kiss deepened, and he had had the chance to keep her shortly in his arms – it had become deeply ingrained in his consciousness.

“I want to see a list of all the prisoners,” he heard the orc mention. “Tomorrow, at my table. Don't let me wait. Understood?”

Volda Gan'dra, a jungle troll, and their official handler as the one who had taken the small group as captives, nodded.

“Of course, Highlord,” she answered and wanted to turn when another orc came by and ordered the group to stay.

“You will leave these prisoners here for two days before you take them over to the Brawl'gar Arena, Volda.”

The jungle troll was not pleased with the way things went on. “But I wanted to train them immediately...”

Eitrigg, who was the orc who spoke, only tilted his head. “This is an order.”

Silence ensued after his words.

As Volda Gan'dra wanted to speak further, Eitrigg interrupted her. “I know what you're going to argue, Volda, but it is lost here. Two days, then you can have them back. You know the rules. – And I've heard there are enough fighters in the Arena for now.”

While Volda left grumbling, some guards arrived who guided the small group of prisoners to the dungeons of the barracks.

The group was moving on. Relieved, Anduin sighed, having understood enough of the orcish words that they were spared a bit time before the Arena waited for them. Tomorrow – he would see what tomorrow happened.

*

His first penalty and he was ordered into Grommash Hold for work. He was in emotional turmoil, his night not being one of the quiet ones he had longed for so much, the pain of his broken wrist almost unbearable and not allowing him the sleep that he badly needed. How high was the possibility to meet _her_? As if the Light had influenced the decisions made by others, it was he who had to work there? To get a broom to sweep the floor with the chains around his hands and legs clinking with every move?

The Hold seemed empty when he started his early shift. But he was only lucky for the first half of the floor when he suddenly heard the walk of heels, clicking on the stairs outside and something inside himself told him it could be only the Warchief herself. Her nearness – it was all too much to bear, too much to handle for him right now.

Anduin fled into a corner and sank on his knees, not knowing what he should do. Finally, the moment to see her had arrived, but not the way _he_ wanted it to be. By the Light, what was he to do? Desperation overtook again, as it had so often in so many restless nights. He scrubbed the floor he had swept before, just praying she would walk by. He shook, he knew it, but he couldn't stop. All the pent up emotions, they floated back to him in one move. They didn't let him rest in peace. He tried to suppress them as good as he could, but – he couldn't hinder himself to start burning with Light like a beacon.

He didn't even stop when Sylvanas Windrunner, the Warchief of the Horde herself, stood suddenly in front of him, sensing that something was off with him. She had caught that tiny glimpse of Light that had flickered around him in one of the corners of the big throne room and was unpleasantly surprised. When Anduin, who was crouching, didn't react, she even went so far to put her shoe on his hand to stop his movements. Still, he didn't dare to look up. Only when she pushed harder, he gasped. Pain shot through him by the pressure. Tears shot into his eyes. She had chosen the broken hand that he had refrained from healing. The first sob escaped him, completely exhausted as he was. Light that would not do.

“Leave me,” was all he could choke.

And that was the moment she chose to come down to him, grabbing his shirt with her gauntlet's metallic claws, pulling the hood back in a rude gesture. His golden-blonde hair, grown during the journey, sprang free since he had lost his ribbon – and the pain made him finally look up to her. No hiding anymore possible. His heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath. The yearning for her overwhelmed him completely.

Sylvanas looked in those bright blue eyes – and didn't want to believe what she saw.

Those blue eyes, she knew them, though more in a challenging way. Now, they were sad and fatigued. They were almost blurred since tears stung the young boy's eyes. His face was dirty and pale, but she would recognize _him_ everywhere! Only he looked like a shadow of the shiny young king she had seen on the battlefield of Lordaeron.

“You're not _who_ I think you are, are you? Are you?”

Shaking him roughly that the chains clinked again, her red eyes glowing, she scrutinized him from head to toe. He stayed quiet, almost begging her with his eyes to leave him be. After moments that felt more like an eternity, she let go of him, turned around and stormed out of Grommash Hold, to the astonishment of all who had just followed her into it for an audience.

Anduin was relieved that she left, pulled the hood back up and continued scrubbing. All he wanted now was the end of his shift, going back to the prison and the cell. To be able to calm his stirred emotions down, and to face her another day in a better physical condition. Fortunately, he didn't see her again for the rest of the day.

It took longer than he thought until he could return to the quiet. After Grommash Hold he had to clean other buildings in Orgrimmar, but Anduin didn't mind. To work in the cool buildings was better than staying outside in the unbearable heat. Besides, the noise of her heels clicking was still echoing in his ears. With the penetrating look from her red eyes, the elegant long eyebrows drew together, the frown and the darkness in her face that followed – it was far from what he had dreamt of every night upon meeting her again.

There was no tenderness of the one sort he had felt when she had taken his face in her hands. There were just raw anger and something bordering on hating. He was afraid the whole day that someone would come and drag him away, but nothing happened. The cot he was looking forward to was finally in sight. The usual bowl of hot soup, too. Freed from the chains, Anduin realized that, after the base and edges of the wounds induced by the roughness of the metal were almost entirely crusted, they started bleeding again from the day's work. He drank the soup, grateful for it that it warmed his body and gave finally into oblivion, exhausted from his feelings and the job, but still feeling for her shadow on his side – only to be rudely awoken sometime later.

“Prisoner. Up! You have to go somewhere else. Lucky you, seems you are spared from the Arena.”

Dozy, he endured to be put into chains, clinked cruelly around his wrists. Anduin suppressed a cry of pain, feeling weakened not only by severe wounds but also by the lack of sleep and the need for a break, especially when he felt the weight of the metal on his broken wrist again. With gritted teeth, he merely followed the orc who walked him off through Orgrimmar – the temperatures had dropped in the night – to the Valley of Strength into a building next to Grommash Hold. He was pushed into a rather simple decorated room where a fire was burning, and chairs stood around a big round table. Anduin staggered, the chains rubbing coaxing a moan out of him, and went over to the open fire, happy for its light and comfort it was giving him, trying to unburden his wrists by pulling the chains further back on his arms. He slowly dropped down at the column of the hearth when his powers left him. He hadn't even the strength for healing his wounds, although this was his chance to do it, not being watched. He began to drift off, hearing _her_ voice.

“I won't be disturbed.”

With closed eyes and bated breath, he waited. He had thought – prayed – to be given time to prepare him better for the next time they would meet, but it had been just a little breather. Had the Warchief of the Horde found him out? What was he to expect?

 _This_ was the big moment now.

The one, which he had tried to be prepared for the last weeks, while traveling to her, to Orgrimmar. The moment, where he put his whole life, his overall welfare, his whole being in her hands – not knowing the outcome.

His hood was pulled back again, and his reopened eyes wandered over to the beautiful but cruel figure that kneeled in front of him. It was _her_ , in all her glory, and all the emotions intensified in him and made him dizzy. Wasn't he dreaming, in the end? Why was he confused about what was real?

Sylvanas observed him, and her voice sounded abrasive. “If you are whom I believe you to be – shouldn't you be in Stormwind, ruling your faction?”

Was it the reality, then? Anduin simply shook his head, but it was the wrong move because suddenly his head swam. No! The vision of her blurred. Did one of his dreams speak to him, a dream that would be over too soon? Which was it now? The trembling had him firmly in its grip.

When she got no answer, she suddenly recognized the worse condition he was in, and she snorted with contempt. “I should let you die, and all my problems were solved.”

“Do it,” was all he could answer when he couldn't control his pathetic behavior anymore. He realized that blackness sneaked into his sight, due to the blood loss or the lack of sleep? He coughed, sinking slowly back. “See you... on... _your_ side of things.”

His rapped out words, they shocked her. Knowing the boy-king a bit, Sylvanas knew there was a time he would _never_ have begged her for something like that. He, waking up as an undead? He, being a person who embraced the Light so wholeheartedly?

Hands grabbed after him, but Anduin wasn't able to make a difference anymore until he was given a smack by a cold hand which got through his haze. Was she indeed _real_? Anduin found himself pulled back into her presence. The smack had told him at least that he was not dreaming and that she was watching him.

“Hell, what are you doing here in Orgrimmar?” She hissed at him, her hand still holding him by his shirt, close to his face.

“You,” was all he answered when he put his arm over his face to shelter it from her and to feel his red cheek, thoroughly embarrassed.

“Wrynn...” The first time no mocking name slipped through her lips, and it shouldn't get to him, but it did, and oh no, he was already back in all his misery and in his neverending fundamental dilemma, if there was ever a cure for his burning. Would this never be over and done with?

“... _why_ are you here?”

Instead of answering he tried to straighten up although his overheated head was still swimming and he felt frail. He managed by gathering his courage. He wanted at least to be on the same eye-level with her when he confessed.

Anduin couldn't have known that the Warchief of the Horde had been mulling over him a whole day. She was mulling what to do, how to react. Her plan had always been – once she would've defeated the young king and would've had him in her clutches – to make him kneel in front of her and then to get subtly rid of him. But _now_ , seeing him falling into her hands voluntarily, seeing him under those questionable circumstances with him a shadow of his former self, she found herself unable to do it. At least not without some questions answered. The curiosity hadn't let her go, what he wanted here, as a prisoner, so far away from home. It was stronger in the end.

“You're not yourself. Were you poisoned?”

“No.”

“Threatened?”

“No.”

“Taken captive? Mistreated?”

“Yes and no.”

“Then what on Azeroth happened to you?” Sylvanas shook her head. Her voice was still abrasive. “My spies told me that you should be on a journey to the Netherlight temple - according to the official channels of Stormwind – so how come you are here in Kalimdor?”

Anduin closed his eyes. He decided on the absolute truth. By the Light, his voice sounded hoarse and raw as he emphasized each of the three words. “ _You kissed me._ ”

In the sudden hush, one could hear a pin drop.

What had he expected? Now in finally meeting her? To continue where they had left? He was burning in her presence, having yearned for her and her touch and her being with him for so long! Light, it would not do. The desperation he had thought himself to have come to terms with rushed back in one wave when no answer followed. It shocked him. It gripped him. No! His hope of healing crushed, once he had met her believing it would be over, gave way to another horror that it would stay forever. He couldn't live like that. He couldn't rule over a kingdom like that. He couldn't do what a king must do. The memory of his dying father made him squirm and groan.

“Look at me, Wrynn.”

Her voice, often harsh and unforgiving, sounded completely different. Merciful. He was aching, and he was longing for her again so severely it took his breath away. No, nothing than the truth would do. He finally reopened his eyes and looked at her, laying his trembling hand over hers on the floor.

“I'm at your mercy, Sylvanas,” Anduin rasped, “I mean it.” Blue eyes, haunted but clear now stared back at her. “Completely. Utterly. You are free to do whatever you want to do to me. I won't –” here, he almost broke, “I can't hinder you... I'm simply lost... I don't know what happened to me...”

Somehow he found the strength not to look away but to focus on her and the glowing red eyes, her long brows and her platinum hair, hidden under the hood. The high-pointed elven ears. Her womanly figure with such beautiful curves he had dreamed every night of to touch, skin on skin... he was trembling so hard and couldn't do anything against it while he was desperately searching for words to explain himself.

She continued to watch him and shook her head. “You're running a fever.”

“ _You_ are the fever.” Anduin was keen to pick up the cue, not withholding his craving for her any longer with her eyes on him. “You got under my skin. Every night I dream of you!”

He couldn’t stop the passionate words that came breaking out of him. “ _Your kiss_ started a burn in me I hadn't known before. I yearn for you. I touch myself, thinking of you. Those moments in the night, they help me survive each day. My body is aching for you. I want you! I burn for you! I'm in flames, and you're the fire.”

Sylvanas, having expected anything but this, flinched back and pulled her hand immediately out of his. Anduin didn't blame her. It was a better answer than he had anticipated because the reaction spoke for itself.

“That's all right.” He whispered dead-tired, realizing the truth and admitting it to himself which he had never done earlier after a long moment of pondering silence.

He sighed. “It's not that I don't know that I fall short of _your_ expectations. And I know you have another lover. I know,” he swallowed, “I'm not your type.”

Somehow he found the inner strength to stand up, not waiting for her reaction. It was the answer he had always searched for, perhaps foreseeing in the back of his mind but never gutsy enough to speak it out loud. Now that he had it, it wasn't easier. Deep down he had agreed with himself once he had gotten her perspective of things he would bring himself to let go of it. Whatever she chose. When she made a step towards him, he warded her off, not wanting to be a burden any longer and just wanting to leave that magical pull that set him aflame. _She didn't want him_.

“I know the way to the prison, Warchief.” Anduin walked slowly, but steady towards the door.

His departure made a stunned Sylvanas react, although she hated the impact the young king already had on her. However, she felt somehow responsible for him.

“Wrynn, stop.” With long and quick strides, Sylvanas was beside him and stood in his way. “In the name of your father, I won't let you go... in such a madness you're in! I may be called many things, but I'm not a monster. And you're beyond doubt crazy, Wrynn.”

When he tried to ignore her and walk around her, there was suddenly a cold hand on his chest. Surprised by her gesture, Anduin stumbled. The touch by itself woke a thunder and lightning in him at the same time, and it deafened his ears, but this time he didn't want to give in. He tried to resist as much as it made his heart break. He fought for a way to get himself out of this haze she caused and for a way to reduce the burning flames, knowing it would take time to come to terms with her crushing his foolish hopes.

Although he was emotionally tormented, he tried hard to reply in a serious and determined manner. “I am _not_ crazy. I simply can't put an end to the misery _our kiss_ threw me in. Unless you want to end my life here and now – and I won't blame you for making me an undead, I'm fine with it – let me go, Sylvanas.”

When she did not move, his desperation overtook again, making him move forward, into her touch, her name on his lips like a treasure he was not worth to possess.

“Sylvanas.” He came to a halt in front of those piercing red eyes, torn between wanting her to step back and to let him through or stopping him forever. Between ending his predicament _or_ kissing again. Why didn't she react? She stayed where she was and moved deliberately, it seemed, into his direction. Their bodies touched.

Anduin escaped another gasp, feeling the intimate touch right into his inner core. One he had gone through reviving for weeks and carried close to his heart. It was the spark that made the burning return immediately with such ferocity he was shocked about, the Light in him pulverizing, splattering into pieces that set every capillary in his body on fire. He shook, couldn't stop, glowing in the dark of the room.

The sound of his voice became desperate. “No. Don't do this to me, Sylvanas,” he heard himself beg, “don't –”

Instead of an answer, she dragged him away from the door to the fireplace and pulled him down with force. It was easy, Anduin bore no resistance; he fell and lay in front of her, fearing, hoping, surrendering all at once. Drained of all the strength he had had moments before, the Light in him fading as quickly as it flared up. He wanted to say more, but she put her hand over his mouth, looking into those sad, helpless, drowning blue eyes.

“Shhh. Do not fear.”

His eyes followed every move of hers. Was it a good or a bad thing that happened now, at this crucial point of their farewell? How easy she opened his shirt, how she moved one of her gauntlets away, touching his heated skin with her bare cold hand. Anduin closed his eyes, close to giving up his life, expecting her to let him die, but then he gasped when he felt the Light that had shrunk to embers coming to life and restarting to collect itself in him. Gathering, simmering, waiting to break through.

For her touch? It couldn't be! Why did it happen whenever she was this _close_ to him? Why did it happen that _she_ was the igniting spark? He was confused, but he got no answer from the Light that had acted all by itself. Like he was a vessel but only for the Light to get through to her. Or was it him, his feelings for her, the Light sensed and answered? He reopened the eyes, all of a sudden not wanting to miss a single moment of watching her in case that it was his last. He lay completely still, having surrendered himself to her cold hand that was so welcome on his hot skin. _The dream he had dreamt every night was coming true_.

Her hand didn't rest on his chest and wandered. And it grew warm because every time she touched him, there was a gentle shimmer of light, sparks which emanated from under her hand, glimmering a bit before vanishing and making way for new ones. Anduin's beautiful body began to glow, soft, warm, and the feelings that got along with it made him gasp for breath. He saw with astonishment that every cell in his body reacted, the emotions whirling through him first like a breeze, then growing slowly into a storm. Was it because he had finally accepted the situation itself? Her bare hand had already found his erection, and he panted. The blast in him gathered momentum, lightning and thunder raged inside again, buzzing in his ears, the blood rushing, whirling like a hurricane.

Her hand, thin and bony, but with an amazing tenderness closed around his shaft, caressed his sensitive tip, stroked, starting with a steady pace, only to grip suddenly harder, stroking faster – and although he wanted to last longer, to hold on to his body's chaos, to the electricity her hand induced, Anduin could not. He was done. He burst, his mind projected him climbing the peaks of the mountains around Stormwind that he so loved and had missed on his journey to her, taking off, flying through the air. He spread his wings and felt the rush of the height, getting high on it, burning through his overheated orgasm while she was still cupping him. The Light shook him again and cursed wildly through his body only to find release. From the height, he sailed down back to the place by the fire with _her_ at his side while, utterly exhausted, his body shut down and made him glide into forgiving and very sweet unconsciousness.

And when he did, the Light connected to Sylvanas. It passed through her hand over to her body with one enormous wave of feelings, and it projected an image in her mind. The rush and its effect, too intense, was almost unbearable for her, but she recognized it as Anduin's when she pulled back her hand in shock and scrambled away from him. The echo of it lasted and screwed itself painfully into her undead bones.

Admiration. Desire. Passion. Lust. Love. It was _all_ there.

The image lingered in her mind, and it showed _her_ through his eyes when she was touching him. But the way she looked...?

Sylvanas froze. It was not like she didn't know how she looked nowadays.

The devastating image painted her the same, yet a shimmer of light surrounded her – but the light was not oppressing her darkness, no, instead it was surrounding it as if it wanted to keep it safe. No way! Sylvanas closed her eyes and tried to shut the image out with an intensity she hadn't felt in ages. It lingered again, as if to taint her but faded, finally, and when it did, she was shaking like a leaf.


	6. Orgrimmar, aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N**
> 
> The pain train's first stop. Thank you for traveling with me, _Windcage_ and _Taedae_.
> 
> Thank you, _Buntheridon_ , _Lina_ , _Nevijek_ , _Ryuujin_ and _KaedeRavensdale_ for a nice discussion about Jane Austen. (Here's my bow to her.) ;-)

Her look went back to his face, now peaceful, almost smiling, yet the exhaustion still painted on his gorgeous boyish features. The long hair, open, the light beard, all that taught her he was a bit of time away from his home. He seemed more grown-up, but to her, he was still a boy. She was puzzled to what exactly had happened to him. _Our kiss_ , he had said.

Sylvanas tried to remember. To be honest, she still had problems to take him seriously. Did he mean the moment in the ruins of Lordaeron when all she had wanted was to distract him? The short but intense kiss that had been interrupted which she had been grateful for. She had first thought of it as only an outlet of pent-up emotions but judging from his state – it must've meant so much more for him. So much more! Knowing a lot of Nathanos' reactions, she had recognized the restlessness – and didn't the young king seem almost crazy? – and done the only thing she knew could release a human man from it: a handjob.

She had also observed – and here, she allowed her thoughts to wander – how Anduin had reacted, how his whole body had shimmered with the light, like a beautiful stone. Like the Azerite. How warm and welcoming it had been to her hand, giving her a feeling of easiness, guiding her almost to the place she had wanted to reach down his body, too, curious what the young king had to offer because she had been aware of his bodily reaction when they collided. As if the light would've known what _he_ had wanted her to do. And the way he answered to every touch, every tease and every stroke – as he was touched for the first time. Maybe he was?

She had watched him trembling, gasping, sweating, goosebumps all over his body as if every touch of hers was filled with the magic to bewitch him and the power in her hands was put on display – like _nobody ever_ before had.

The thought stirred a lot in her. Knowing Varian's son as a very contained, reserved, almost restricted person, in control of himself and the Light he wielded – it made her wonder what kind of transformation he had gone through into giving everything that was so dear to him up. To come here, to Orgrimmar. To _her_ , an inner voice whispered.

_If there was any truth in those words, he had spoken_. Sylvanas' right hand still tingled and felt warm when she touched it. As if her hand was alive again. The whole situation was more than bizarre and strange and made Sylvanas shake her head. What was she to do now? She could somehow not be responsible for having him here – and trying to hide him. Some would want her head for that. But she couldn't also be responsible for getting him back to prison. No. The only solution for her was to smuggle him home on a mount, flying back to Stormwind as fast as it could. She had things to do, and ironically he was a burden she wanted to get rid of. For whom she had no place here. The sooner it happened, the better. And happen, it should.

She had to look for another person who cared for him until he was better because she didn't dare touch him again. Too vivid was this image in her mind of herself. Darkness enveloped by Light. Was it a vision? No way! It was just her imagination. Or his?

*

Determined, Sylvanas left the house and went to the Drag, the main road linking the Valley of Strength and the Valley of Wisdom. The shaded street was known far and wide for its myriad of vendors and profession trainers. The Warchief climbed the upper level, remembering one person who resided here for some time now. Apothecary Vallia, not one of her most trusted people, but one who had been a human doctor before she was turned into a forsaken – and respected by the people of Orgrimmar, she knew - had been surprised by her appearance in the night.

“What can I do for you, Dark Lady?”

“You will accompany me now, Apothecary.”

The sharp yellow eyes had taken the Banshee Queen in, and the female forsaken nodded. “Of course.”

Sylvanas nodded back. “I will have your service and your silence. It is of utmost urgency.”

While they walked back toward the Valley of the Strength, the Warchief continued their talk in Gutterspeak, the forsaken's language. “It goes without saying that if you whisper a word, you will hazard the consequences.”

Vallia, who followed her, didn't know what to make of the indirect threat – but upon entering one of the houses next to Grommash Hold, when she saw an unconscious young boy by the fireplace, she suspected the Queen of the Forsaken had insisted on the secretiveness because he was a human.

Sylvanas' eyes followed her while Vallia approached Anduin to check on him.

The female forsaken turned around and said cautiously: “I take care of the human, Dark Lady. I will organize his transport to my house, where I can take on his condition better.”

“Do not disappoint me.”

*

It was late after midnight when the Warchief of the Horde showed up at Vallia's house in Orgrimmar again. Sylvanas was angry about herself that she had backed down over her conflict whether the young king was in good hands or not. It had made her finally go and check.

Vallia had herself a bit excluded from the rest of the apothecaries after the Battle for Lordaeron and had taken the offer to live in a sole place in the Drag on the upper level, next to the Arboretum which was lead by Muraga and Brunda, two female orcs who had befriended the forsaken a little bit. Her laboratory was here, and she was also on good terms with the orc Yelmak, the Alchemy Trainer and owner of the shop 'Yelmak's Alchemy and Potions', located in the lower section of the Drag, whom she often provided with her self-made useful potions. Despite her past, she tried to help wherever she could.

She was working when she heard someone coming at the late hour and saw the Dark Lady to her astonishment stopping in the door.

“Is he upstairs?”

Vallia nodded. “He's still unconscious.”

The Warchief climbed the small staircase and entered the little upper room of the hut under its roof, where the apothecary currently housed the young king in a bed. Vallia continued working, letting her with him alone above.

*

The cool breeze of the night that reached the upper level of the Drag made the temperature comfortable here, and a light curtain blocked views. Sylvanas took place on the chair next to Anduin's bed, looking down on him and falling immediately into brooding again why her feet had brought her here beside the want to check on the situation.

The young king was still unconscious, but his hands were both bandaged now.

How come the Queen of the Forsaken felt suddenly responsible for Varian's son? Ah – Varian. Sylvanas shook her head. The only one from the Alliance she had come to respect. To even like him and the way he had acted, one of the last true warriors on Azeroth. But his son?

Sylvanas had only sensed in which haze the young king had come to her. And she was still utterly stunned about it, which was alien to her. Being through a lot, she had never seen a human – wasn't he still a kind of boy? – in such a condition that she had found him in, here. Questions, still not yet answered were on her mind and she wondered about them. _How_ had he come here? All by himself? Why did the Alliance express the view that the young king was on his way to the Netherlight Temple? Did nobody of them know that he was in Horde's territory?

Although her undead being had taught her to ignore a lot, even Sylvanas had seen the apparent love Anduin had for his home. The love Anduin had for the Alliance as a faction, for being the heir to a kingdom, for being taught to do what he had to do, well educated in patience, composure, honor, and responsibility, following the footsteps of his father. The only thing lacking was military experience and leadership. For the young king – who was leaving all this behind – what in hell had happened to make him do so? To walk straight into the hands of his enemies _alone_?

She hadn't almost recognized him, fevered, exhausted, only this aura of calmness and light around him had stayed while he had scrubbed the floor. He had hidden under a hood and worn simple clothes. The moment it had dawned on her, she had let him taken out of the prison. She also knew he was a priest, someone who could defend himself – and hadn't he shown much more of his potential on the battlefield of Lordaeron? – but he hadn't even tried to harm someone! Hell, he hadn't yet healed himself! It was most disturbing.

Thus brooding, the sun was already showing its first rays when a voice behind her interrupted her musings.

“Dark Lady, your duty calls. - Leave him with me. I can let you know when he wakes up.”

Sylvanas who was on edge because of the situation, rose, standing in front of the apothecary, eyes glaring down to her and stated: “If I am going to hear...”

Vallia hurried to answer her. “I am your servant, Dark Lady. He will be alright; rest assured.”

Sylvanas only nodded again, the abrasiveness in her voice firm, so Vallia understood she better did not trifle with her. “I am counting on it.”

When she left the room, Vallia stared after her, fairly wondering. It was the first time the Banshee Queen had shown _something_ akin to compassion. A forsaken cared for a human? The whole rest of the night, the Dark Lady had stayed at the young king's side. Because it was the High King of the Alliance whom she kept secretly in her house? Was the Dark Lady responsible for this? Or was there something else at work here? Vallia shook her head, knowing she had been witness to something rare but found it hard to pinpoint a precise diagnosis.

The human stirred in his sleep, but when the apothecary checked on his left hand, she could already see that the dark magic had done its duty, the broken bones were mending. There was a low shimmer of light around the young king as if it was there to protect him. Not from me, Vallia suspected. From her? Or did he dream? She had recognized him because she had seen the young monarch in person standing in front of the gates of Lordaeron when he had conjured a massive dome of light to heal his forces and to keep the Horde at bay.

*

When Anduin awoke, confused, almost in fear, remembering a fireplace, Sylvanas' presence and what she did, another voice spoke to him. “You're safe here, majesty.”

Anduin's first impulse was to say: “I am not...”, but then he took a look around. “Where am I?”

The female forsaken looked at him – or at least it seemed to Anduin that way. “Apothecary Vallia at your service, majesty.”

Anduin shook his head slowly. Very tired. Downcast, when he thought of what had happened before and seeing that Sylvanas was not present. “I'm no majesty here.”

“I know. But I also know that you are used to politeness and respect. And you were trusted in my hands.” A bitter laugh, sounding more like a cough, followed. “I would be losing my hands and my studies in case you're not content with me.”

She glanced in Anduin's questioning face. “You are under the Warchief's personal protection, and I will be damned if I act against it. I want to keep my hut.”

Anduin swallowed. “Thank you, Vallia,” he said simply.

A shadow flew over the forsaken's face that was hard to identify. “If you need anything, majesty –”

As heartbroken and hurt as Anduin was, close to tears, he remained nevertheless as serious as his caretaker was. “Please stop, Vallia. I mean it.” He took a deep breath. “Will you be so kind as to call me Anduin? Or better to say, Llane. Or – actually, it doesn't matter anymore.”

But Vallia only shook her head. “You own two names, majesty?”

Anduin, tired again, nodded, trying hard to maintain his composure. “One from my uncle, and one from my grandfather.”

Recognizing the forsaken's reserved attitude, Anduin was therefore surprised about the answer he got after a while.

“It's a good tradition to carry on with old names of the family.”

The way she had said it, he heard the acrimony in the strangely echoing voice. It made him pause for a moment.

“I know it's none of my business, but may I ask where you lost your family, Vallia?”

The female forsaken, who had half turned away, replied after hesitating shortly. “In your country, majesty.”

“Lordaeron?”

Why was a kiss always present when Anduin spoke that word? A kiss that still shook him to his core. A kiss he had wished to be repeated. He tried all in his power to focus on the forsaken whom he had a conversation with and not fall back into his misery.

Vallia nodded. “I followed the Dark Lady here. It's good to have my own laboratory, at least.”

Here, Anduin could comply. “I was always interested in seeing a forsaken's laboratory but... I never got a chance. May I ask if you are inclined to show it later to me?”

Vallia looked back, surprised by his words. More so at their sincerity. “Of course, majesty.” She found herself open to his plea. “Let me show you once you are better.”

It wasn't the first time she wondered about the young human, what had brought him here and why, of all people, the Warchief was the one who let take care of him. In secret.

“For now, you have to stay in bed. Sleep. I will come to look for you later.”

“Thank you.” Anduin nodded and was asleep again in seconds, his exhaustion demanding its tribute.

*

Slowly, Anduin's regeneration process began. After having slept enough for two days, and having not wanted to stay the next day in bed, too, he used the given opportunity and came downstairs. He felt how his strength came back, how good it was to use both of his hands when he watched Vallia in her laboratory who was busy with brewing potions. In some quiet moments he tried to come to terms with Sylvanas' rejection – and was it one, he wondered after she had laid a hand on him? – and while his heart was still bleeding, he was more determined than ever to continue. Deep down, he waited for another chance to be able to lay his heart at her feet, an opportunity he hadn't been able to take at the first time when she just knocked him out, more or less. And then, being responsible for a kingdom was no longer something he could avoid, but he had to face. Yet he waited for her to show up while he didn't dare to step outside to look for her although every part of him longed for it.

He just tried to enjoy the calm before the storm and spent time with Vallia who reminded him a bit of Arman, the friendly forsaken he had gotten to know in the Salty Sailor Tavern.

Vallia saw it, his many countless looks at the door, that told her how much the young king waited for the Dark Lady. What on Azeroth had only happened that the human had come deliberately here? To help him overcome his sadness and his visible suffering, she kept him busy with helping her in the laboratory.

Sylvanas let Anduin wait. What only Vallia knew was, that she showed up every day around midnight in her house, walked upstairs and sat beside the young man's bed just to leave at dawn before the young man woke up.

Until she stood in the Forsaken's laboratory in the late afternoon on the fourth day and surprised them both how they discussed and smiled, bowed over one conical flask filled with blue-green liquid.

The Warchief cleared her throat, and both swiveled around, only for Anduin to blush and glimmer immediately with Light. Vallia who watched it with astonishment knew then why the young king had come here. _He was in love with the Dark Lady_.

*

The apothecary had left them, closed her door and displayed her sign that she was out of reach in the hope they were not disturbed, then, like she had done the last days.

In the hut, there was first a long silence.

“I will come to pick you up around midnight. You are going home tonight.”

“You let me go?”

“Given the special situation, yes.”

“So you will let me go,” was all Anduin said. His eyes were focusing on Sylvanas, but nothing in his face revealed the emotional turmoil she already threw him in again.

“It's for the best, Wrynn.”

She called him by his last name once more, and it hit him completely unprepared. How was he ever going to survive the following time without her? He couldn't know that even she felt unable to go back to the formal address, not with all the things that had happened between them and that forced her – her! – for the first time to do unspeakable things, namely to let her enemy go.

She was about to turn and to leave when he walked in her way. “Can I say thank you?”

“What for?” The red eyes glowed again.

It wasn't easy for Anduin, but he wanted to try, nevertheless, to make her understand. “For all you did.”

She refused to take it as he most certainly meant it. “You won't owe me one in the next battle,” was all she answered.

“You know that's not what I aimed for."

“You're not in my debt, human.” And because she had spared him mostly for his father's sake, she added: “After all, you are your father's son.”

Anduin felt like punched in the gut. His small smile was gone. “This is not about my father, Sylvanas.”

Her voice changed back to a biting tone. “If it is not, then tell me what human idiocy had brought the High King of the Alliance here? Or should I say deliberate ignorance?”

Her words cut deeply, and she realized it when he flinched back.

At least, there was no beating around the bush necessary.

“Why did you lay a hand on me?” He stepped back in front of her. “Why?”

“To stop your erratic behavior? Even your father...”

“Keep my father out of this, Sylvanas! I like to think that I am sufficiently conscientious and intellectually able enough for you to assume that I would have considered the consequences of my action.”

She snorted. “You try my patience dangerously. I had plans for you, but your crazy action forces me to comply. Let's call it the mutual esteem I still have for your father, Wrynn.”

It made him furious that she didn't seem to take him seriously in any way. He had revealed his innermost thoughts, his wishes, and his dreams some days ago to her. To his enemy! There was nothing left what could save him. Hadn't he been already lost when they kissed? He hadn't realized it then, but later on, in the night when he couldn't sleep. It had foreshadowed what would happen. He was still struggling to find a way out of his misery, to get back to his former self again, to be able to rule his kingdom again. He was on duty. He was the heir of his father for whom's sake she was so willing to let him go. He all knew this, but when he was thinking back to her handjob...

There was a stubborn streak in him that wanted to know _why_.

“I know the way to the prison, Warchief,” Anduin replied quietly, after calming down, “if you are so keen to have plans for me, I am willing to wait for them there.”

His refusal to follow her wishes was something she was not used to, and he could see how angry she became when darkness moved over her face and her red eyes glowed deeper than before.

“I have no time for games. All will serve the Horde in time. – But not before you told me why you are really here!”

Although it wasn't the way he had imagined, Anduin had her there where he wanted her. “You want to hear why I had to come here? I already told you, but I'm doing it gladly again.”

It was perhaps not the best moment to lay his heart at her feet, but another one would possibly never come. Passionate words, propelled by his emotions and the Light that still burned in him, were spoken by him when he kneeled right in front of her, shocking the Warchief of the Horde again who had just thought the young king had returned to his senses.

Little did Sylvanas know that Anduin had just wanted to be given an opportunity again to explain himself better. He had had the last days to think about it, that there had to be a second chance to tell her and convince her of his sincere feelings. He didn't want to give up so easily. It was the try that should have been given to him in the first place, which he had waited for.

“I have struggled with myself. My feelings will not be repressed,” he began bright-eyed, “I know I had been feverish and blunt with my first proposal, but I want to do better now. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you, Sylvanas. How our first kiss ignited a fire in me I wasn't able in the slightest to stop from burning, from eating me up inside, from moving me forward to see you again and to speak to you whether I might ever hope to make you love me.”

Sylvanas stiffened, completely overpowered and caught off guard by his personal confession. To her utter amazement, the young king continued unfazed and started to glow, as if the Light would guide him to do so.

“I shall live to kiss you, to pleasure you, and to make you feel as I do. You kissed me, so you must have felt the same! You awakened a yearning in me which took possession of me, and I can't shake away anymore. I came here to Orgrimmar, guided by the Light and my desire for you, to tell you that my heart is yours and that I am nothing without you. I want to spend my life close to you. I want you on my side, and I want you to stay there until the end. – I know you are the Warchief of the Horde, Sylvanas, I know you are a forsaken and that not all of my people will welcome you. I also know it is said that you have a personal champion, yet I would like to assure you that you will never have to fear rejection from my side because I love you! I burn for you and it will last forever! Take my heart. Take my love. Take all of me. – Let me hope to be rewarded by your acceptance of my hand.”

When Anduin had finished, kneeling in front of her, Sylvanas laughed. It would have been infectious, had it not been scornful or malicious, he wasn't sure.

“Look at you.” She taunted him. “The boy-king on his knees.”

And Anduin, painstakingly hurt that this seemed to be the only reaction he was to expect, was brought back to reality. What had gone wrong that he was treated with loathing? He had told her everything that was in his heart and on his mind. Only the truth. He was struggling for the appearance of composure and tried not to open his lips until he believed himself to have attained it.

“I might wish to be informed why I am treated with such contempt.”

Her mood changed from one extreme to the next. Had she laughed about him before, now her abrasive, almost hateful voice made him tremble. “And I might wish to be informed what you were thinking, _boy_? That you interest me? – You are like Arthas.”

Cruel words hissed at him which couldn't wound him more. He was nothing like Arthas, and he was confident that she knew it.

“You are insane to think this kiss and our little intermezzo had meant _anything to me_. Go home where you belong, and I might be tempted to let you live the next time we meet on the battlefield.”

Anduin stood slowly up, devastated, eyes cast down not to let her see his inner torment. His following words were barely audible. “You have said quite enough, Warchief of the Horde. I perfectly comprehend your feelings and can do nothing but feel ashamed of what my own have been. I offer my sincerest apologies. It seems I misunderstood you utterly.” He turned half away from her, only to add quietly: “I will wait for you to pick me up around midnight.”

And he was gone while climbing the staircase. Silent. Leaving behind a still suspicious Sylvanas who asked herself whether her question was answered or not.

*


	7. Return to Stormwind, The Netherlight Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N**
> 
> I simply like to thank you, _Windcage_ and _Taedae_ , and you, my dear readers.

How long had it been that the young king was gone? Six days? She had come to pick him up at midnight and brought him to the Orgrimmar Skyway where an eagle from the Highmountain tauren, one of Lasan Skyhorn's who was trained to transport different kinds of races, waited for him. No words had been exchanged between them. He had followed her, back in his worn clothes, hidden under the hood – just like her. Sylvanas had made a hand gesture, and he had nodded, understood, mounted the eagle, and took away. With no look back. The eagle would return once he had brought the human into Stormwind and Sylvanas knew, the young king would let him go.

Six days and her hand was still _warm_. Hell, it almost burned. And Sylvanas didn't know what to do against it. She had tried everything, well versed in the dark magic. Nothing worked. As if her Light-touched hand had a life on its own now.

It was more than embarrassing. Sometimes, it even lighted through the bracers and the gauntlets. But her wits and her patience had genuinely come to an end when she had held her bow and pulled one of her special arrows to shoot – and had started to tremble. She wasn't able to shoot. No, she wasn't able to shoot one single arrow! The more often she had tried, she always ended the same. It made her beyond furious that no shot was possible. She could not fight this way! Hell, she could do nothing! This was not how it was supposed to be!

Yet, Sylvanas should've known. The moment she had realized Anduin's Light reached out for her and projected that damn image – that still shook her inside – she had feared it would never leave her. She was cursed and therefore very adept with such things. However, this new experience went beyond her horizon. Her hand, it stayed warm. Since she had touched him. Since then. Was she cursed again?

*

It hadn't been easy. Nothing at all. Anduin had walked like in a trance, his heart bleeding once she had come to pick him up. He followed her, every breath torture but he kept placing one foot in front of the other to move forward. Even the Light in him remained silent as if it felt as half-dead as he was inside. He was unable to utter a simple word, and he was grateful that she kept the silence as well.

Once they stood where she had taken him, he recognized it as the Orgrimmar Skyway he had heard about, and when he saw the eagle waiting, he immediately knew that it was his ticket to Stormwind. Home. The only thing that helped him maintain an iron grip on himself. After she nodded, he mounted – and took up in the cloudy sky. Anduin forbid himself to look back, realizing how he slowly broke.

He had offered her all... his heart included. He didn't know she had the power to break it so it could never be whole again. He was done with love forever, he knew it. This was and had never been his playground. His destiny. To wield the Light, yes. To protect his people, yes. Yet, the one time he had reached out – he was rejected in the cruelest manner he had never dared imagined to happen. In the end, it was for the better, he knew deep down. But once – Light, once in his life! - he had wanted to get the thing he wanted – her! - For himself. But here he was, and had to deal with that there was no love for him ever.

Up, in the air, where nobody could see him and judge him he just let go of his bottled up emotions, drowning in his heartbreak and in his tears, the Light in him still burning, glimmering and crawling over his body and the eagle to keep them protected while he collapsed. And the bird, realizing his distress, sailed as calmly as it could into the horizon, following the Light that guided it, towards Anduin's home.

Some sailors that looked up in the sky at night swore later they had seen a bright star falling, a beacon of Light, and they made a wish like it was told in sailor's yarn that the request would come true.

*

Finally, Sylvanas had no other idea than to look for help to save the day. She had consulted her books and other sources. Nothing that had the slightest basis of being similar to her case was known. Even Vallia, the Apothecary she had asked after long hesitation, had tried some potions, but none of them had solved _her_ problem. Vallia had suggested, in the end, that the Dark Lady should meet with the High King of the Alliance again, but Sylvanas had only laughed at the sheer thought.

Yet, the hand continued to be _warm_. To function and to work correctly, even to let her feel in tiny pieces what she touched, only she was unable to shoot with arrows, quite apart from the fact to take the dagger in her hand. She ranted and raved. What the hell was only wrong here? Light and undead, it merely did never work – no, that wasn't true. Sylvanas stopped short.

There was _one_ person where it worked. One she knew. One who had perhaps the power to help, whom she could ask without being derided to the whole world, and especially to the Alliance: Alonsus Faol, the former Archbishop of the Church of Light, now a Forsaken priest and Archbishop from the Conclave that was to be found in the Netherlight Temple.

She was at the end of her tether and gave in. She had to go there. There was no other way. With great uneasiness, Sylvanas stepped through the portal. Alone. The temple in the Twisting Nether was foreign to her, with its transparent bright Light and purple shadows of Void. It was beautifully built, nevertheless. She entered the Hall of Balance and was welcomed by Archon Torias, a blood elf who asked after her wishes, recognizing the Warchief of the Horde at once. She enquired him about Alonsus Faol, and Archon only nodded and signaled her to follow him.

To be honest, Faol was her last straw. Therefore, she stayed very quiet when she followed the blood elf through the Hall to one of the countless small niches. Of course, had she seen the many faces and heard the whispering that she caused. It was humiliating, but there was no other way. Archon Torias asked her to wait and was gone.

Faol came not long after him, and Sylvanas who recognized the undead priest at once was stunned how much Light he carried with him. Just like the young king. Those damn light-wielders! What kind of talent did they have inside them that made it work? Why had she been 'infected' with it? It was something she had been mulling about over days and nights now. No. She looked to the side, the hatred flaring up again when she thought of the one who was to blame for: Wrynn, whom she had to thank for all of this! All she had wanted was to help the son of Varian to get out of this craziness. Paying back the respect and the likes which she had had for his father had played a role, too. And _maybe_ what Anduin had let her feel when they kissed in the ruins of Lordaeron, yet she had never told anyone about. The emotions that she had completely blacked out and that had returned with a ferocity, including the confusion, the excitement, and the closeness. How both _lost_ and _safe_ she had felt in Anduin's embrace.

*

Anduin was dead tired when he finally arrived at his private quarters in Stormwind Keep and closed the door behind him.

He had landed with the eagle just in front of the entrance of Stormwind Keep, pulling back the hood, so he was recognized with the Guards already running towards him and shouting. He stroked the bird, nodded and stepped back, the majestic eagle lifting upwards into the air. It was early morning, and Anduin took a look around. All were in the exact same state as he had left it – and still, it felt more different than before. Had he grown up or grown merely older? He had been taught a lot, wandering around in Azeroth.

But his adventure was over. And not in the way he had wanted it to or hoped for. The pain and the hurt that ached in his heart was still there, but the fact remained that she had crushed his dreams, and he better accepted it. Well. It was a fatalistic way of seeing things – and he didn't like it - but it helped to cope with the pain in his heart.

“At ease,” he ordered his guards while he nodded towards them. “Your King is back.”

A shout of joy was his answer and made Anduin smile when someone else came running out of the entrance, just slipping in his haste into a dark brown leather overcoat.

“Anduin!" Genn's loud voice tore him from his musings, and he looked up watching the other one hesitating first, then stepping towards him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I am relieved you are back! Where have you only been? It has been twenty days..."

“I know you have a thousand questions, Genn," Anduin interrupted him, "but I was on a long journey, and I am drained, so everything else has to wait until later today. I would appreciate it very much if you accompany me to my quarters?"

Genn nodded. Without further delay, he began: "Let me tell you how shocked we had been when we found your letter. I already sent word to inform Jaina that you are safe. - Now that you are back, we will have an important meeting once you are up. Mathias Shaw will see you, too. And later on, I am certain the House of Nobles would like to have a word with you. Besides, a council meeting is overdue and..."

Anduin interrupted him kindly but determined. "I know, Genn. I am prepared. I will be there, and I will do all in my hands to make it up to you. But I need some sleep, first."

“I just wanted to make sure...” The Worgen felt somehow helpless, torn apart between his surprise _how_ the young king came back, having recognized the eagle as the mount of the Highmountain Tauren and his curiosity _where_ he had been gone to for so long.

“I will be there, Genn.” Anduin granted him a small smile, now that they stood in front of the door of his private quarters. “I won't vanish again. Don't worry. I learned my lesson.”

The elderly man shot him a long glance, taking him in. How tired and worn-out he looked. Browned by the sun, a haggard face slightly hidden by the beard. And he could see that Anduin had cried, as red as the eye rims were. Yet, there was a difference in his attitude. Where he had been restless before, there was now a certain calmness and determination in Anduin.

*

“My lady." Archbishop Alonsus Faol came to a halt only some steps away from Sylvanas, yet, the corner they stood in was quiet, and they were not disturbed. Too much respect was around here for each species of Azeroth, even for her, the Dark Lady.

Her first impulse was to turn around and return to the capital of the Horde, such humiliation she felt, that she was forced to come here, to get proper help for something that should've never happened. But it wouldn't do to fall into the brooding, to come back with an empty and, – what was worse - a still burning hand. Sylvanas pulled herself together.

“Faol.” She nodded towards him. “Your service is needed.”

There was a small smile on his face when he looked at her. “How may I help you, Warchief of the Horde?”

Sylvanas, still not knowing if it was a wise decision to tell him, began to pace up and down, but Faol waited calmly for her to talk. She sighed.

“I was touched... by a Light-wielder, not that long ago.”

His questioning gaze at her was the only answer she got.

She tried to sound less abrasive. “I don't know what to do.”

There was a slight pause before Faol answered. “The Light has great power, Lady Windrunner, yet, you are one with the darkness -”

“I know,” she cut him off. “But this is a... delicate matter.”

“I am sorry I don't understand the matter at all, Lady Windrunner.”

Sylvanas grew impatient at once. In one go, she tore her gauntlet away and held her warm hand up into Faol's face. “Then what is this?”

The Forsaken priest looked first stunned, then amazed at her hand.

Sylvanas was mad. “Hell, Faol, my hand is warm and alive – but I'm _undead_!”

Faol pointed at her hand as if he still couldn't believe what he saw. "This is where you were touched?"

“Of course. Plain to see, right?”

“It shouldn't... shouldn't last, my lady.” Alonsus obviously was at a loss. “May I ask - when exactly did it happen?”

Sylvanas paused for a moment and looked away. “Ten days ago.”

To hell with this moment, she thought, with this moment she had helped... Anduin to cope, feeling he was in a similar disastrous condition in she knew from Nathanos and herself sometimes, too. In retrospective, she assumed they had somehow connected, there. She had pitied him, and she had been touched by his crazy, but honest confession. Damn it. They were her sore point. Like Vereesa's had been, too.

Faol's next question tore her out of her slight fit of anger. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“It does not?” Even for an undead, Sylvanas recognized the incredulity in his glance.

“Then may I ask where the problem is, Lady Windrunner? What is it like?”

Sylvanas was almost beside herself. “Hell, Faol, I feel its warmth. Don't you, too? It's like the hand is alive!”

Faol nodded calmly and spoke again. “True, but what I meant was... do you feel it like a part of your body? Or like something foreign?”

Sylvanas stared first at him, then at her hand. After a moment, she replied. “It is still _my_ hand. I can do what I want – the only thing is... I can't shoot. With my bow. Faol, I can't even defend myself! I can't fight at all!”

He watched her for another long moment and shook his head. "Only due to the hand, Lady Windrunner?"

“Of course. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."

“Did you try the other hand?”

“Yes, but it didn't work either. How do I get rid of it?” She shook her head. “Is there nothing you can do?”

There was a smile on Alonsus' lips when he shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I wonder how this can work at all, Lady Windrunner. I've never seen Light and Dark work together before, you have to excuse me.”

Sylvanas let her hand sink and stared shocked at him when the realization hit her. "You can't help me."

“Me? No.” He shook his head again. “But perhaps the one who touched you? I can't think of any other solution.”

Shocked again, Sylvanas simply stayed quiet for a while before she, hesitantly, posed the next question. “Can't you ask the all-knowing being that is here?”

“I already asked the naa'ru, and I got the same answer."

“Which is?”

“That you should return to the one who touched you.”

*

Anduin and Genn had arrived at the door of his private quarters and Anduin nodded towards him. “Will you come and see me at my brunch in four hours?”

“I will.”

“I see you then.”

Genn sensed that Anduin was about to disappear behind his door, but too urgent were those questions in him, also pressing the worries to let the young man go without the most essential answer given. He held him back.

“Anduin. Can you... can you...” The Worgen hesitated but pushed himself. “Can you at least give me a proper answer as to why you left everything behind?”

Anduin looked at him, hesitated. “What kind of version do you prefer, Genn?”

The elderly man watched him back. "The truth, Anduin. Nothing but the truth, of course."

Anduin sighed. “Do you really?”

Genn did not hesitate. “Yes.”

“Fair enough.”

Anduin inhaled deeply, having no problem of opening himself up but fearing for the issues it would cause, knowing that the elder Worgen didn't handle soft emotions well. Yet, he didn't see the necessity to whitewash. "I was on my way to Orgrimmar."

Genn couldn't look more shocked. “To the Horde's capital?”

“Yes.”

“What, by all Gilnean ghosts, had you wanted there?”

“Propose to Lady Windrunner.”

Genn's mouth fell open.

“When she kissed me -," he heard the Worgen gasping for air, "I fell hard. Completely. And I didn't know how to handle it. - For me being a king, expected to act like it my whole life, it was life-threatening, to dream of her, to yearn for her, and to be captured by her. Knowing no way out." Anduin described his emotions the bluntest way he could.

The elderly man coughed, still not being able to believe it. “She kissed you?”

There was a small smile flowing over Anduin's face. “Oh yes, she did, Genn. - And she did it very well.” The smile stayed but grew a touch more sadly. “Otherwise I would've not left everything behind.”

Genn was still stunned. "Am I to believe... that a kiss made you go to her? To your enemy?" His incomprehension was still visible.

Anduin who had foreseen what would happen if he told Genn the truth only continued smiling. “What did your first kiss do to you, Genn? Whom did you kiss first? Mia? Or someone else?”

“My first kiss?" Genn suddenly shook his head. "This is not about my first kiss, Anduin. I can't grasp your decision... I can't understand... she kissed you, and you just went? Without having the decency to tell us where you would go – besides this being a complete crazy maneuver?"

“Why do you want to know the truth, then, Genn, if you aren't inclined to accept it?”

“Because -" here, the Worgen started to pace back and forth, "I thought it was such a tremendous, world-rocking thing – not a kiss – that made you act like this?"

He couldn't stop. "Jaina suspected the Light in you being the only thing we could not comprehend fully to make you act like this like no king would do!" The reproach came violently through.

“And you don't think her kissing me was a world-rocking experience?"

“I don't know what to think, Anduin. Your father...”

“Please, Genn." Anduin's answer was simple but desperate. "Leave my father out of this."

“So you know what he would've done with you after returning home?”

Tears shot in Anduin's eyes again and his voice trembled. “I would like to think that he would've tried to understand his son, not to judge him. Despite what he did.”

Genn had stopped his inquisition, shocked to the core, seeing Anduin for the first time breaking down when the young man stepped towards him, only sorrow in his voice.

“Genn, my father is dead and won't come back. So what am I to you? Someone you put on a pedestal and who fell down in a graceless way? Never accepting me the true way I am, a human with feelings? Only a dead inside king you're associating yourself with? I'm eighteen years old, Genn, am I not allowed to make a mistake? Don't you think I had thought this through, leaving you two behind, my kingdom in your hands? Don't you think that it was utter desperation making me leave because otherwise, you would've found me dead?"

“Dead? Anduin, do you know what you're saying?” Genn's horror was very well heard in his voice.

“Being in such despair, Genn, believe me, makes you want to go there. Craving for a kind of peace in my soul only death offers. From the longing to possess something so precious to my heart but I could never get. From fulfilling expectations you and everybody else put in me from day to day to being forced to go into war and to be responsible for many lives, I would have liked to save if I could have given mine instead or if I had acted differently." Here, he stocked but continued. "To missing my father badly and you not always being my friend but a reminder of what I am doing wrong every day, Genn, and doubting my actions although I am trying my best."

Anduin stepped back and got a grip on himself. "But don't worry, Genn, as I told you, your lecture isn't needed anymore, I learned the hard way." His voice switched to bitterness. "I put my heart on Sylvanas' feet, and she was eager to tell me exactly the same. Actually, it's almost funny how similar you two are, not only in treating me but everybody around you. Expecting that everybody is made of the same wood that you are of and acting astonished when they aren't. I'm not you, Genn, I will never be, I am even not like my father. But I hope... I hope you will be able to forgive me one day like you have forgiven Liam."

Anduin paused, collecting himself. “I'll see you in some hours, Genn.”

And then, he was gone, leaving a speechless Genn back. Who had a hard time to digest that the son of his best friend was in love with the Warchief of the Horde and had even proposed to her and that he had dared to compare him with her, with this crazy bitch, with this... Forsaken queen who wasn't worth and clearly not deserving of his love. And it must have been love because nothing else – Genn understood now – would have Anduin made turn away from his father's heritage. Nothing but love. And a damned kiss! About which Genn could only shake his head, asking himself, what on Azeroth the Banshee Queen had driven to kiss Anduin? This young boy? Wanting to use him? But what for? Perhaps – and it was a very alien thought to him - not all was lost.

*

Sylvanas, on the other hand, had left the Netherlight Temple in the same condition as before. Desperate. Even Alonsus Faol was unable to help her, who had been her last hope. Needless to say, Sylvanas started to get desperate. This way she could not lead, she could not do anything. She was... hindered. She was incapable, for hell's sake!

Back in Orgrimmar, in Grommash Hold, Sylvanas paced back and forth. Confused. Irritated. Annoyed. Furious. She was forced to think of Anduin again although she had tried to avoid it to no end. She was still in doubt why he had decided to come close to her. Why one kiss could've had such an impact on him? An impact she always denied herself? Forbid herself to think about it? What it could mean to _her_? The words he had said to her in his proposal were on her mind and wouldn't go away, ignoring her wishing them away so badly, wanting to break through the iron-clad grip of her self-control.

The fact was, she hadn't been prepared in any way of what he had told her, how he had opened his heart and confessed. Hell, what was she expected to do but laugh at him and question his sanity? He would never ever bother her again, her rejection had made sure of it. Yet, a little spark lingered. Of him speaking the truth. And that _she_ certainly would be the last one he would tell something like that if it was not meant from the bottom of his heart. She shook her head. Nonsense. It was utter nonsense.

She could be cunning. She could be deceiving. She could be ruthless. Could she leave it at that? No. In one move, she was at the door, outside the throne hall, and out on the streets of Orgrimmar. She knew she had to do something. And her warm hand, glowing, reminded her that she had to force him to take the Light he poured into her back. She looked for her batmaster and decided to surprise the young king. Hadn't her spies told her this morning he stayed in Kul Tiras? That's where she headed at. And she didn't care whether it was dangerous or not.

Yes, there was only one option left: to get in touch with Anduin again.


	8. Boralus, Kul Tiras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N**  
>     
> The second **HEARTBEAT** of the story. Pain train here I come!
> 
> I celebrate one year of publishing World of Warcraft-stories with Anduin/Sylvanas. Still caught by the fever!
> 
> Therefore a heartfelt thank you, _Windcage_ and _Taedae_. 
> 
> And thank you, my wonderful companions from the _Warcraft Writer's Guild_. You all are unforget _table_!

 

Anduin had been so busy the next days, there were only the nights left to abandon himself to despair. He gave in with the slight hope of his heartbreak diminishing from day to day. Yet, he reached a deadlock. His heart was aching, he was reliving the moments he had had the luck to share with her, to remember her words, the pleasant ones as well as the rough ones over and over again. And her touch. No, he hadn't forgotten about it. How could he? The moment when the burning fire for her consumed him, it was as deeply ingrained as him as their kiss in Lordaeron.

He refrained from laying a hand on himself, both fearing to lose the magic of her touch and to descend into madness, but he burned with the yearning and the desire of repeating it. In dark moments, he saw it as his own punishment for daring to long for someone like her.

He wore his golden-plated armor every day to remind himself that he was here for his kingdom. It was the hull that kept him together. Otherwise, he would break apart. He endured it all by forcing himself fiercely to go through each day.

He willed himself to arrange with it, determined not to go back to the fever he had been used to every night _before_ he had reached Orgrimmar. Instead, he tried to find comfort in the privacy of his quarters and to allow himself to drown in emotions he kept at bay the whole day. He enjoyed something simple like having food, something to drink and a comfortable bed once sleep found him.

The Light in him still burned, as bright as ever, but it did so with a flame that didn't run riot but rested in itself, at least. He was more than grateful for it. In between, when he couldn't hinder himself to think of Sylvanas, he glowed, aware of all her touches that were hard to forget and that were embedded in him like nothing else but even when the people or the servants around him saw him shining, they didn't say something.

*

After informing Mathias Shaw, the latter had announced him he would know what kind of version they would tell. Anduin had assured him he would adhere to whatever they wanted him to say as long as he wasn't forced to tell a lie. The young king had been told not to shock the people of his kingdom and all the other ones of the Alliance, which was why he wasn't wanted to state outright clearly what he had done.

Besides, for all of them, he simply had returned from the Netherlight Temple. It was almost funny that the Light that flared up when his mind slipped to Sylvanas only added to it as if to underline the young king had been blessed coming back from a sacred place.

Although Anduin didn't mind to admit he had done what his heart had ordered him to do – everybody would understand when it came to the matters of the heart, he was convinced –, as of now, he just wanted to make it up to all that counted on him. And he had a lot to do, once the politics were done. He wanted to revisit Lady VanCleef. And the Saldean's farm. And on another day the Salty Sailor Tavern. He wanted to check the Elwynn Forest – and Westfall, of course.

But another event demanded to put those things aside for the time being. When he heard of Jaina being stuck in Kul Tiras – who had returned to her home to get the island state and its highly needed navy back to the Alliance's side after Anduin had come back from his journey – and being thrown out by her own mother and exiled.

This was the day he entered the 'Wind's Redemption' that was currently the fastest battleship serving in the Alliance navy, accompanied by Genn Greymane and Mathias Shaw, to check on the events in Kul Tiras.

Genn was still in a kind of denial to what had happened. It was an understatement to say he was shocked about Anduin's act, and it wasn't that he couldn't have told him by himself that of course, that crazy bitch of a Warchief would have rejected Anduin's proposal! There was no doubt in the Worgen about her motives. But he wasn't also blind to the fact that since then, Anduin had grown up. As if... he had been taught something perhaps nobody could've prepared him, but he had to learn for himself. For _once_ in his life, he was glad that the hated undead elf had let the young man go. And it was time to look onward to the next events. To solve the political situation in Kul Tiras was urgent.

*

Sylvanas, to stay under the radar, had taken her bat over to Kul Tiras, after studying the detailed plans of the island state and asking her spies for more information to get to know where to find the young king.

She was still in doubt if it was the right decision she made, but every time her hand started to glow – and it did now more often than before – she was forced to hide it behind her cloak or to turn around. This was no appropriate behavior for the Warchief who pulled the strings of the Horde! And she was unable to fight with her bow and her daggers! It threw her in permanent fury and made her unable to think clearly.

She reached the civilized nation after midnight but long before the dawn, sailing on her bat without a sound down the inflow that led towards Kul Tiras' capital city. She was protected by the cloudy sky that covered the full moon while she looked out for the Alliance ship that was docked at Boralus Harbor near the Tradewinds Market. She was still a hunter, who knew how to walk silently among the living and to hide in the shadows, so nobody took notice of her. She was aware of the risk she took, being unfit for battle because of her burning hand, but she didn't care. Focused on finding the young king and forcing him to take back what he infected her with, she drove forward. Being informed that he resided on the ship where she headed at, she saw some Lion's guards patrolling in front of it, but then ceasing to do it and go for something to drink inside a tavern that was called the 'Snug Harbor Inn'. Suddenly, it was awful quiet. There was a tower nearby where she landed with her bat. The Alliance ship had still guards on deck, whom she could observe closely from above and she waited patiently for the change of shift. Jumping down from the tower, utterly quiet, was the easiest thing to do. She landed on the back part of the battleship and walked down the porthole, following the burning that she had glimpsed, being certain it was him, the young king. Downstairs, she halted – hearing a sobbing so quiet only her elven' ears took it up.

*

Anduin had had a long discussion with Spymaster Shaw and Genn about how to solve the complicated situation in Kul Tiras and had retreated after the two men wanted to meet with Harbormaster Cyrus Crestfall, in need of some time for himself. In the ship's cabin, he tried to look for the peace that hadn't been given him the whole day. Not able to suppress his thoughts slipping toward Sylvanas any longer, and the soft glimmer of Light that always accompanied them, he was already overwhelmed by his heartache after entering the cabin and closing the door. He moved over to the window front, one hand barely on the window frame to open it for fresh air but it was to no avail. He ended using it to keep him somehow grounded, to keep him holding on, to keep him alive, the other hand embracing himself, he fought for his balance, but he trembled too strong. He let go of the frame, gliding down on the wooden planks, curling himself on the floor like an embryo and just trying to hold on... through his break down. Of the despair that nothing of his wishes and desire would ever come to fruition, the Light cutting through his body in chaos. He didn't stop the tears that threatened to melt him, he didn't stop the coughs, the gasps for air, the shaking – he just let it all happen to him, for once not restraining himself and not withholding his emotions that wanted so desperately out.

Sylvanas stood on the other side of the door and tried to imagine what had happened, not entirely understanding the noises – and they were the ones Wrynn made? – her excellent hearing picked up.

Anduin, on his way to sink in his feelings, was unable to switch them off, although he asked himself how often he was forced to go through this emotional torment before it started to get better. He was used to it, the tears, the tremblings, just when he had been on his way to her, but with every day recently managed he prayed fervently for it to go by. Yet, the moment when she had laid her hand on him stuck with him no matter what he tried... and although he had resisted for over ten nights now to touch himself again, he was very close to giving up.

He was burning, the Light in him swiveled around, excited as if she was close? But she wasn't! She was over there, in the west, in Kalimdor, lost to him. _You are insane to think this kiss and our little intermezzo had meant anything to me_. Light, the ache that was in his heart, it took his breath away. When did it only leave him? Never? And it wasn't alone this, his groin was burning, too. By the Light, he was exhausted and had enough of it. Yet, he still yearned for her and her touch, the longing immeasurable now. His hand sneaked into his blue breeches, his mind already evoking memories of her cold hand gripping his erection. He groaned softly, pure lust shooting through his body when he cupped his hard-on. _Wasn't he pathetic_? He started to pant, but he wanted to give in to his burning so severely –

Sylvanas hesitated – as she had done with Vereesa's emotional outbreak when they had met at Windrunner's Spire – but then she decided that it certainly was to _her_ advance that the young king was all churned up inside. For whatever reason. With one step, she entered the captain's cabin at the stern of the ship as quietly as it was possible. She closed and locked the door silently, yet the young king on the floor sensed her presence immediately and looked up, surrounded by Light that it was almost blinding her. General incomprehension was first on his face when he saw her, then, as recognition dawned on him, he flushed, but she was already with him, pinning him to the ground and holding a hand over his mouth when his blue eyes, stung with tears, widened.

When Anduin registered a click, he lifted his head, seeing _her_ storming at him – no, he was dreaming, wasn't he? – fixing him, one hand coming to rest on the floor next to his head, her left hand closed over his mouth.

“Hold your tongue, Wrynn,” she threatened, “or else I will cut it out!”

All Anduin could think was how embarrassing it was that she found him in this compromising situation when they met again, her cruel rejection still in his head! His face colored, having no chance of extracting his hand when she came to sit upon his stomach. He gradually understood that she was real when she exerted pressure on him to tie him to the floor.

“No!” It was one word, muffled under Sylvanas' hand, yet, Anduin had said it with all power he could muster. He started to fight her, stirred up by her physical presence.

“Get off of me!” The rush of his feelings threatened to overwhelm him. Sylvanas could see it, the Light that already shimmered around him won in its intensity, like a flame that was just blazing up. She voluntarily moved back, yet, she wasn't done with him. Anduin pulled his hand out of his breeches and scrambled away from her, only to have his back collide with the wooden wall. Sitting now, legs pulled close to the body to hide his opened breeches, still shaking, he stared at her, the Light in him calming down.

Only now she connected the dots, realizing where his hand had been. Her mouth twitched, and she couldn't suppress a grin. "The priest not so celibate as he should be?"

“Don't,” he started, still quite embarrassed about her catching him, “just don't.” He gazed at her, obviously fighting with himself. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Because I'm an excellent hunter, boy-king?”

He remained silent. Taking in the way she kneeled on the floor on one leg, the other one elegantly bent, her arm resting on the knee. The impressive bow and the quiver with the arrows on her back, she leaned half forward, a smirk around her lips. But it was only the external facade, inwards, she was boiling. The glowing red eyes showed it.

“Done with gaping at me?”

Anduin shook his head. “Why are _you_ here? – You made it pretty clear the last time we met that you...”

He didn't get further. In one graceful move, she scooted right into his face.

“ _You_.” Red eyes pierced through him and not in a friendly way.

His widened blue eyes looked back at her. He swallowed.

“You did this.” The long pale eyebrows drew together in an intimidating frown when she lifted her hand.

Anduin was confused. “I did what?”

“Don't deny that it is your fault.”

“I don't know what you're talking of.”

Her sneering laughter stung. “Don't play the innocent here, Wrynn,” she affronted him.

Slowly, he got angry as well. What was wrong with her? “Don't speak to me of innocence,” he hit back.

Dark shadows flew across her face. "You thought you could force me to your will, but you are mistaken."

His eyebrows drew together. “I'm not you.”

“I want you to take it back or I...”

“Take it back?” Anduin confronted her now directly. “What are you talking of?”

She laughed derisively. “Still pretending?”

Anduin frowned.

“You weren't so bland when you did it!”

“I did –”

“– this!" Sylvanas' abrasive voice echoed sharply in the room. Furious, she put her gauntlet away and shoved her hand that glowed softly in the dark in front of his eyes. Hate crept in her voice. “You burned me. Take it back, your damn Light!”

He glanced at her hand. “ _I_ did not burn you,” he replied blankly, and overcome by frustration, he scoffed, “it is quite the other way round!”

Sylvanas got agitated. _Did this runt of a human not understand_? She clenched her glowing hand to a fist and shook it towards him, threatening. “Hell, you did, Wrynn! – It happened after I touched you. And it won't go away. I can't fight like this! I can't even shoot an arrow!” Her words were angrily hissed.

He shook his head. “It was not my doing. Besides, you are one of the Dark. My Light will never stay with you.”

“You dared befoul my sanctum, boy-king! It stayed!”

Anduin darted a furious glance at her. “Are you always that good in offending others when you're at a disadvantage? Didn't you just tell me you can't fight?”

She grabbed his face tightly to intentionally harm him. “Take a good look at it, Wrynn. And then – take it away! You owe me!”

“I don't owe you anything.” Anduin's voice turned angry again, catching her wrist and pulling it away. “You rejected me. You let me know... that I don't mean anything to you. And now you come here, threatening me? Who do you think you are?”

There was something inside her that suddenly burned red. “I swear if you don't take it back, I'll kill you, Wrynn.”

“I'd say, keep it! Keep the damn burning, Warchief, and find a solution for your own!”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me.” A defiant look met her.

Her look back couldn't be more hatred. “How dare you,” she spat, “I brought a lot of men to my knees, and you will be no exception although you are nothing more than a boy playing soldier, by no means worthy of his father's throne.”

There. He was put back to where he belonged, obviously. All the times before, he had overplayed such situations with his tendency of fatalistic humor and his firm belief of doing right in following his own path, but tonight she hit him in the heart with her scornful words and he decided not.

“Thank you for reminding me of what I am,” he retorted, and he didn't bother to hide his hurt and desperation. It didn't matter anymore. He was really, genuinely running on empty.

“If that's all that I am for you, why bother being here in front of me? Or do you like to top it all again? – Since we met, you insulted me, you threatened me, and you didn't leave any opportunity to provoke me. You even intimidated me, although knowing for certain that I am still inexperienced and you played with my feelings. What am I to you? A joke? Well, let me congratulate you on your victory like you did the first time with me – you've won on all fronts, Warchief. So what is it you want me to do besides being guilty of something that was not my doing? Declare war and mean it? Die in front of you? Because –” and here, his voice broke, and he clenched his fists, “– because I am so tired of feeling for you and fighting with you at the same moment!”

And for the first time in his life, Anduin attacked, the Light in him whirling, exploding like a dangerous storm inside of him. He shot out from his sitting position, his fists placed on her shoulders pushing her back and the way she stumbled back, losing balance, he realized in a part of his brain that she had trusted him until now and he had completely surprised her. He pursued, grabbing her at the arms while both shaking her and pushing, so when she fell down on her back, a cry escaping her because the quiver's hard rims poked into her back as his weight defeated her, he fell onto her.

The fall and the intimate position they were in, she _buried under_ him, reminded him of the bell that had crashed down on him some time ago, when he had tried to save another soul and to protect it from condemning them all. _To protect_ – but what he did here was the complete opposite! Light what had he done? He had switched sides, _attacking instead of defending_. How he hated her that she made him react this way! Being completely and utterly at the mercy of his feelings!

“Sylvanas,” he whispered, mortified to no end, feeling if she was alright. He had broken his most fundamental belief! His most important calling! By the Light, he should be punished to death for thinking this way! He had never been pushed that far, always in control, but she made him lose it all.

In one move he straightened up, although he missed her body close to him immediately, and stumbled some distance away from her, only to break down again, feeling in a desperate attempt for the wildly pulsing Light in him, to soothe him, when dry sobs wrecked his body, and he gave in, doubling over. How was he to survive if he wasn't able to get a grip on himself anymore? How was he to be a king, to do what a king must do... tears streamed down his face again when he fought with himself, his father's words ringing in his ears. Light, he was convulsed with pain.

Sylvanas, shocked, had straightened up as well, looking over to the young king who lay on the wooden planks not far away from her, shaking, crying with a dim light shimmering over his body.

She was utterly stunned that _he_ had succeeded... to push her? To attack her? To surprise her? But it seemed he had been surprised about himself. And the way he had tried to reach for her if she was alright, the way he had spoken her name, the way he had fled her, just to fall down in the distance from her again, told her that he was still somehow protecting her – even if it was from his own outbreak. Yet, she'd never seen him like this. The contained, restricted, though cheeky young man had always been sure of himself. That he was not acting anymore like this told her that she had gotten through to him in a way she, funnily enough, hadn't intended to – it was so easy now to destroy him, he lay there, silent, he would be utterly unprepared if she were to attack him now.

But – like Vereesa's tears and her heartfelt apology a bit ago had left her unable to react – it was the same here. _His_ overly emotional reaction stirred something in her. Suddenly she was hit by memories of herself being down on the ground, begging Arthas of a clean death and her utter desperation when she realized she would not have this, never ever. Had she not sworn to herself that nobody – nobody would ever have to go through this the same way that she had to? Why did she find herself in such a similar situation, then? With someone, who – contrary to Arthas – obviously cared for her because he protected her even in his own rage. Hell, Sylvanas felt shaken by her own emotions, and her hand, it shimmered warmly.

That's what made her finally crawl over to him. Touch him, cautiously, on the shoulder.

“Wrynn.”

Her raw voice made him look up to her, eyes still swimming, leaving traces down his face, the strands of his blonde hair spread over his face.

“I... I have no reason to lie to you,” he began. “I simply can't.”

“What does that mean – you can't?”

He simply shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know when it happened even in the first place. Your hand.”

“You... I...” Words failed her for a moment, but Sylvanas forced herself into icily calm before she continued. “It happened after you... became unconscious.”

It took him a moment until he realized what she had revealed, then he blushed. “What... exactly happened?”

“It...,” Sylvanas hesitated, his reaction telling that he hadn't really noticed what had happened _afterward_. She was searching for words. Suddenly, the topic was uncomfortable for her, too. Had she only known that it was seemingly all for nothing! She cursed herself. Damn her empathy for his father! Damn that kiss! It took her a while to answer him, but he waited patiently for her. It was tipping the scales.

“Your Light. You burned with it – when I touched you.”

“My Light?” He echoed.

Hell, he wasn't always the sort of dim, right? Sylvanas' voice became abrasive again. “Aren't you a light-wielder?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Do you know why your Light was there?”

Anduin stared at her, and it finally dawned on him _what_ her point was. He flushed again and looked to the side. As if it hadn't been embarrassing enough to lay his heart at her feet and get it handed back in the same moment, he had to answer her _this_ question?

“I don't know why the Light in me answers to you,” he specified, “if it just comes from the... feelings I have for you since you kissed me. I already told you all this.”

His last words proved once more his lack of knowledge, but Sylvanas needed to know how to find out of this mess, so she carried on with asking. “Were you never touched by a woman? Or a man?”

She had heard rumors of the Black Prince and him, but well...

Anduin's blush deepened. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because...,” hell, she was trying to find a way out of her Warchief's high predicament, “because it would explain your reaction.”

“My reaction?”

Here, she had a tortured smirk on her face. “The yearning. The Light.”

Anduin only raised his eyebrows.

Sylvanas became restless. “It was all over your body,” she snorted. Hesitating a little, she added unwillingly: “Leave out all the rest. Tell me what you felt.”

 _This_ , he could answer her, if she really referred to the moment when he had surrendered to her hand.

“Everything.” Anduin's blush stayed. He inhaled deeply before he continued. “I told you, but you didn't want to listen.” He cleared his throat. “ _Your touch_ felt... like me wielding the Light. It was a comfort.” He closed his eyes. “It was exciting. It was like a storm I was in, and you were the magnet which pulled me into the core.”

He turned his head to the side when he reopened his eyes. “Your touch felt completely intimate. It was… wonderful, amazing, passionate…” He looked up and saw on her face astonishment. And wonder. And something like desire?

“Shall I go on?”

Silence followed for some time.

Anduin gathered his courage for the next question. “What did _you_ feel, Sylvanas? – I know my Light made you feel... something.”

He wanted to know, it was apparent. His honesty touched her. Only used to betrayal, mistrust, and assuming the worst by definition, the glowing red eyes focused on him when she finally replied, not wanting to offer falsehood.

“I felt your light, Wrynn, yes. – It was welcoming me. As if it wanted to suggest it would not harm me, although I am a Forsaken.” It had even guided her, Sylvanas thought, but didn't speak it out loud. She had known by herself what it would take to deliver the young king from the madness he had been in.

She faltered briefly, a bit irritated of how their former confrontation had somehow turned into a chat. “It was there, all the time.” She shook her head, keeping secret about the part that it had let her feel a few of his feelings, of his desire and of his deep longing.

Anduin's cheeks couldn't burn more. She had watched him the whole time? She had stayed with him? Her handjob had saved him and had brought him at the same time more profound into the craving for her now that he knew what her touch felt like.

“When did the burning start?” He pointed at her hand.

“When you passed out, Wrynn?”

“I didn't see it, less realize it.”

“Which means... it doomed me?”

Anduin shook his head. “I still don't understand why it chose to stay with you.”

“Neither do I.” She said with that sarcastic smile. And the piercing look returned. “Can't you summon it back?”

"I don't know how,” Anduin admitted, “it just fulfills its purpose and slowly fades away. I've never seen it reach out... to someone else besides me.”

She gazed at him, stood up and turned away.

“Sylvanas,” he rose up with her, having caught a glimpse of her startled face, “I really don't know – perhaps it disappears after some time?”

“I thought so, too. But it didn't lessen... since I touched you.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” she noted. “I just can't... use my bow, or any other weapon, for that matter.”

“And how does your darkness deal with it?”

Her thoughtful look met him.

“And why do you want to know, boy-king?” She prompted, finally.

“Because –” Although Anduin's heart was still bleeding, he stated his reason, “–because I still care for you. And after all, you did for me,” here, he swallowed, “I guess I owe you.” He averted his eyes. “Whether you did it for my father or not, doesn't play a role anymore.”

“I don't need your pity, boy-king.”

“It's not pity, it's a help."

“Look, Wrynn, considering of wars and laws, if we were to...”

“There's no need to fraternize me suddenly, Warchief.”

“And how may you help me when I stand among ruins?”

“Let me try first."

He stepped close to her, and Sylvanas didn't flinch back, but watched him with a mixture of curiosity and usual fury instead. He took her warm hand in his, and it glowed.

“You will not –”

It was too late, he kissed her hand.

“That is unaccep _table_ –”

She stopped snarling at him the moment the image of herself surrounded by a shimmer of light lingered in her mind again. And when Anduin, burning with Light, kissed her on the lips she was in no way prepared for the torrent of emotions that tore out her whole undead being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may come back to edit a few things later, but if I don't publish now, I fine-tune again. And again. I'm burning with Anduin.


End file.
